From my journal - May 2015
As I lay here
in my field
surrounded by the most beautiful
flowers I’ve ever seen
My two trees
side by side
guarding me
I listen to the sound of the swamp frogs
croaking
croaking ever louder
the charming whirring of the cicadas
the occasional cricket’s lonely tunes
The bokeh of cottonwood puffs
floating by
seeding the earth around me
for years to come
The sweet smell of the grass
and the soft smell of the earth
breathing after a storm
In the distance I hear the rushing
crashing, yet somehow soothing
flow of a great river
A river that bore life
into this quiet place
Quiet, but not silent
No, this place is filled with the noises of everyday life
for the animals
for the plants
for every other thing that shares what we call life
for me
A quiet lullaby in the distance
too far to chase
but too close to want to rid myself of it
The sound of night approaching
Quiet, but not silent
I am -
and thus, you are too
we are made of the stuff of stars,
and we take great pride in our star-stuff
but we don’t just exist -
like the flickering flame of a candle,
or a star -
we live
we change
we thrive
we shape the world around us
we fill this world with its sweet lullaby
I can feel the air begin to cool
As our sol’s fleeting journey comes to an end.
the sunset just barely eclipsing
the beauty of the rising blood moon -
enormous against our navy blue sky
speckled with ever more stars -
we cherish the experiences we have,
because it is truly all we have.
It’s funny how we perceive this world -
our bodies are sensors for the universe
listening to the world through pore and eye and ear,
taking it all in, and allowing our brains to filter it all out -
we see only what we are supposed to see
though we see it through tinted shades on a hot summer day
we see the mirage of what is, and
we call that reality
we don’t see the whole picture
we don’t really understand the world
we probably will never reach that end.