In the night I am
listening
harbouring back to the days of
babies and toddlers
never quite fully asleep… just in case
instead now, I am listening for sounds of
distress
as our beloved, gentle giant of a dog
seems to be aging quite
rapidly
back legs failing to
cooperate
and my heart aches for him
and
us
this morning first thing I am
gratitude
and always, always
love
for glorious sunshine
a most bright and beautiful day
at coffee, I watch the birds
and glittering bits of sunshine on snow
as it is dusted down from laden branches
sparkled streams of light
and
shadow
also, again this morning I am
completely enraptured by
connection,
by tenderness and
kinship
by… a beautiful eye,
an understanding ear
and by a
not always completely comfortable
cruise
through this thing
of
life
as well, as you may have guessed
by a book
where here I will begin with a confession
as this morning, I
have marked, underlined and written
in said book (*gasp!)
I don’t think I have ever, ever done this before
but this morning, knowing full well
the quantity of words I have stored in the files
of my brain
will in no way be readily available for
retrieval
(to which I will always be blaming capacity –
rather than age)
this morning, I clasp my hand over my mouth
as something so familiar in the writing
springs forth from my chest
and small pools of tears gather
in my eyes
again I am silently stunned by
familiarity
different in many ways, but also
so very much in common
with this beautiful, beautiful writer
a writer, whose book, first acquired
Rumi and The Red Handbag
I carry with me always
in a purse
and another The Flower Can Always be Changing
rests in the backpack I take to work
both lovingly weathered
immensely cherished
books that do not sit up on a shelf to be admired
but rather
companions of everyday life
loving books as I do,
many times I get something I’ve really been wanting to read
but because I am most gluttonous with books
I rarely start it, right away
I place it on my ‘to be read’ pile
and try to keep it in mind
an attempt of delayed gratification
I suppose
I do have a strong belief that often books find
you
at precisely the right time
and Apples On A Windowsill
by Shawna Lemay
is
absolutely
just that
this morning, dear friend (if I have been able to keep you thus far)
comes with worry
with gratitude, and always with
love
but also if you’ll allow me
it comes
with a bit of a plea…
on Thursday this week, I am scheduled for
a much needed
surgery
on my sinuses, I know I’ve mentioned this
but, as it turns out
I am quite scared
even though for me this counts as number eleven
in surgeries for various things over my years
maybe at this point, it is age or
possibly the simple fact that this concerns
ones ability to
breathe (easier)
might I ask, if you had a thought
to surrounding one in love and kindness
I
would most assuredly
appreciate receiving
consideration
possibly tagging on
a great, great deal of love
for our dear old dog
and, while you’re at it
for life
itself ((♥))