the sweetest little sparrow sits beside me
at the window
quietly
every so often
he taps
so that I will look up from my book
to notice him
he is sheltering
from the rain
just under the edge
he is lovely plump and brown
behind him the leaves
are quickly changing
their dresses
from emeralds and forests
to scarlets and gold
and some
are willfully
falling
away
in gentle spirals
of descent
even under skies of grey
how beautifully they
seem to be
the trees ..
strong and confident
grounded
in the art
of
changing
and
letting go
to a deep inhale …
there it is really
this practice
of me
always
much to learn
from the
trees …
here I sit
under my little cloud
of grey…
due to some technical glitch
my blog –
(still not comfortable with that statement!
let’s just call it the spot where I post my ramblings)-
it seems
has been
suspended into
space
and I
am unable
to
access
my words
in my own ramshackle way
even though I have said “I should really have hard copies of these.”
I have not done so
things I have written reside in overstuffed
drawers
and abandoned scraps of paper
so illegible
that I can no longer read them
and the odd draft saved
uncompleted
in my email
strangely I remain rather
calm
in the face of what I may
have lost
faith I suppose in my dear friend
technical guide and computer guru
that he
will rescue me
unscathed
yet sometimes
wondering why I thought something that I
had written
would even be
worth saving..
perhaps though
it owes to
my practice these days
of
surrender
to release fret
and worry
and things beyond my
control
and instead to trust
in flow and
ease
and what
will
be
next week
I have another birthday fast approaching
that odd little number that I rarely recognize
will change
never does this cause me dread
as I believe instead
in celebration
(especially of me!)
next week my oldest child graduates University,
a day later
my youngest child graduates high school
and while I could allow myself
to be swallowed up in the rapid
passage of time
I instead choose
to bask in great pride
at the wonder
of all
of this
and the largeness
of my
heart
to allowing
the ebb and flow
of life
and words
to come and
to go
as they wish
and while I ramble
in my
own way
of muddling
through
life
and
the words
that float
in my head
and in my heart
I come to this quote from Ann Patchett :
“Writing is a job, a talent, but it’s also the place to go in your head. It is the imaginary friend you drink your tea with in the afternoon.”
and so it is ..
here I sit
in my head
with my cup of tea
and you ..
and this ♥