Blog Archives

The View

sparrow treeMesmerizing,
this small, sprightly sparrow,
as he (or she)
hops, perches, steps, sidles,
then leaps, flaps, lands.
Exploring
twig to twig
branch to branch,
bridging tree to tree.

A car approaches,
hesitating at the intersection.
“Doesn’t she have something better to do with her time?”
I can imagine its driver is saying of me.

This is the better.

Advertisements

Caution: Stillness May Be Dangerous

11121569_10206412824384869_2911994817518297219_oSometimes I sits and thinks, and sometimes I just sits.*

Except I hide my sitting in moving. But trust me, I’m sitting on the inside. Oh, not lounging-on-the-couch-with-a-soda-and-popcorn-in-front-of-a-movie kind of sitting. No, I mean myself, the part of me who knows she is me, is seated and stilled. I must disguise this as moving because, were I to ACTUALLY sit, I’d be accused of sitting around which is wasting my time which is NOT allowed.

So, while I move, I sit.

And while I sit, I whir. The cogs turn and the wheels spin and holy smoke probably rises from my brain factory. Gone totally rogue, my ideas bump into each other, introduce themselves, recognize old friends, and sit and chat. So now THEY’RE sitting, too! The sound of a million voices is deafening, silent to the passerby, of course, but not to me.

I don’t mind it, though. It’s not distracting. In fact, it’s engaging to host a multitude of delightful thoughts, all with a chance to do more than gather, more than collect, more than mill around waiting for instructions. Here, in my very head which is bobbing along the roadway looking like it’s DOing something, these thoughts are churning. They are comparing notes, discovering, unearthing, creating. It’s quite a process. Never know what might turn up, or who.

Perhaps I will jot a few notes when I get home if there’s a particularly juicy tidbit. Or maybe if l let things mull and age and ruminate they will make themselves available for my next opportunity to sit, I mean, move.

Please don’t tell anyone. It’s really quite subversive, this stilling. In fact, it could be dangerous.

*phrase borrowed from a favorite greeting card.

Expectant

cardinal-Female-Tony-CampbellHow brave the mother cardinal,

perched atop the feeder,

not feeding, but performing,

not performing, but calling.

With words I do not know, but a voice I dearly do.

I am here! I have a message for you! Come!

She calls out and waits, calls out and waits,

for the answering call

in a pitch and rhythm and expression she already knows,

but doesn’t.

“I hear you. Wait there. I am coming.”

How does she know there will be an answer?

How does she know how to call, what to say, to whom she calls?

Yet, without fear or hesitation,

Her voice rings out again and again,

into the silence.

She has more faith than I, this mother cardinal.

More boldness, more courage.

Instinctive – there is no thought at all to this display!

And yet, do not I have this instinct born also in me?

This desire to call out,

in a pitch all my own,

with a tone and a voice and a message uniquely mine

and then to listen,

for a voice I do not know,

and yet do.

%d bloggers like this: