It has become like a sort of longing\u2026<\/p>\n
it\u2019s my day to write
\nand really, \u00a0what have I got to say,
\nI come to sit in the sun
\nin the lovely quietness of my gardens
\nblazing beams of glorious light
\nwarming my shoulders
\nthe soothing sounds of the birds
\nthe comforting lyrical whistle of my neighbour
\na constant
\nan airplane overhead
\nand when it\u2019s gone
\njust quiet
\nthe silent sail
\nof the clouds
\nand the soothing whispers of a breeze
\nIn the leaves<\/p>\n
this is what I am looking to
\nembody today,
\nquiet, gentle soothing
\na recent conversation with my Mom
\nmaking me feel the passage of time
\nand then a dream about her
\nthat unsettled me
\nworries over things I cannot control
\nand hopes for other\u2019s future happiness
\na bit of overthinking
\nhas me dragging a heavier than necessary
\nweight
\nand I come to the garden
\nto unfurl my wings
\nin the
\nsunshine<\/p>\n
the mock orange is in full bloom
\nthe scent of which
\nis the sweetest and most heavenly
\nand it flowers in the most sacred
\nquiet corner
\nto where I come to breathe
\nin full gratitude
\nthe mulberry is busting with fruit
\nand the birds are most joyous for its bounty
\nBiggie Smalls our resident frog
\nis quite happily sunning himself in the centre
\nof the pond with tadpoles swishing on his back
\nand face
\nand gathering jubilantly around him
\nthree little chickadees land on a branch of the spruce
\njust above me, an adult and two very young
\nand as they are not a very large bird to begin with
\nthese babies are quite small
\nthey chitter in excitement
\n(and so do I, at their presence!)
\nI greet them, but they are quickly off
\nremnants of a tree that my husband has removed
\nlay in pieces on the lawn
\na necessary evil I suppose,
\n(or so he says)
\nbut it never feels quite right
\nI\u2019ll continue to see an empty space, like a scar
\nfor awhile
\nthe distinctive sound of a doves wings
\nflutters overhead
\njust as two of the tiniest little chipmunk babies
\nruns along the fence and into the thick
\nof the trumpet vine
\na grey squirrel perches on the fence post
\nwatching me, as I
\nam watching him<\/p>\n
I guess,
\nit is wistful,\u00a0 I am feeling
\ntoday<\/p>\n
and this quiet day
\nin the sun
\nis my
\nsalve<\/p>\n
when I start to think it is time
\nfor a nice cup of tea
\nI look up
\nand there beside me
\nI have a friend
\never so quietly perched
\nis the plumpest little bird
\nand I smile wide when I realize
\nit is a baby cardinal
\nthe smallest I have seen
\nand here it is
\nright beside me
\njust quietly sitting
\nin my garden
\nand it is here truly
\nmy gratitude swells<\/p>\n
Today
\nin the sun,
\nI am feeling wistful
\nand warm
\nbut peaceful
\nand blessed
\nby all
\nof these
\nmy
\nsimple
\nlittle
\njoys<\/p>\n
However it is you are feeling today … \u00a0<\/em> It has become like a sort of longing\u2026 it\u2019s my day to write and really, \u00a0what have I got to say, I come to sit in the sun in the lovely quietness of my gardens blazing beams of glorious light…
\nfind your joy
\nit’s there<\/em>
\nwaiting \u2665<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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