Rushing

I am sitting in the church library.  At least five people have rushed around me, working to get more things done in a short amount of time.  It seems I cannot rush these days.  So I write pieces on the advantages of sitting still.  I try to convince myself.  I would still rather rush.  The sun just broke through the clouds.  I saw it.  

Everyone rushes,

It seems,

Except for me.

I have learned the value

Of sitting still

Not because I chose it.

No.

It chose me.

I would still

Rather rush.

Every time

I think of one more thing to do

First I must sit still

So it may rest in the place

Made for it,

One more thing

To be done

Or not.

I wonder the colors

Last week was mostly gold.  An unusual week.  I wait for the colors this week will bring.

I wonder the colors

Of this week coming,

Maybe not the golds

Of last week

But surely colors,

Surely more

Than simple shades of gray.

I wonder the palette

Of this week coming.

The day ended gold

A complete gold day, beginning to end.

The day ended gold

With rice and beans,

Cilantro and tomato.

The day ended gold

On complete hospitable ground.

Light in the darkness,

Gold in the conversation,

Possibility at the dining table,

Children running circles,

Prayer in the living room.

The day ended gold

Light in the darkness.

More treasure in a hidden field

Unearthed.

Good times

I love fall mornings like this one.  I am home today, coddling my cough and cold with water and hot tea.  This morning is still, pure, gold, a day begun with laughter.  That first shoe may never even drop.

In the still gold

Of this morning

We speak of how we are,

Each one of us.

Bad things come in threes

I say

Then laugh:

I’ve not even

Seen the first one yet.

He says

That’s a good one.

It’s like waiting for the first shoe

To drop.

We laugh

Move into the day

Still gold at its beginning.

I live for this morning

I still feel the clarity of yesterday, even with the gray sky.  Sometimes I am able to live in the moment, take things as they come.  These are gracious times.  I do not always live here, but this morning...I do.

This morning is gold

Against silver gray

The sun is behind

Thin clouds.

They say the cold

Is coming soon

And with the cold

More winter things.

I live for this morning

Gold leaves

On the palest gray,

Burning bushes still green

In my front yard.

The snow may catch them

Unaware.

Me?

I will take it

As it comes.

Clear eyes

I woke early this morning with clear eyes.  An amazing thing, really.  They have been clouded with allergies and fog-brain as of late, for at least a couple months. Clear eyes.  Here they are again. Alleluia.

The sun shines gold

At this early reclaimed hour.

Enough yellow leaves remain

To filter gold light

Against blue tint,

Just arrived,

Morning sky.

And me?

I woke with clear eyes

To see it.

Different parts of the world

I traveled to Santa Fe this past weekend to visit my sister.  We have some things in common.  We are sisters, after all. We are also very different.  We have separate roads to travel.  It was a good visit.

We pay attention

To different parts of the world

My sister and I