Peace
Sitting with the selectively obedient schnoodle on the hillside grass of the vacant block in our suburb
Meditating at the pre-schooler’s suggestion
She shouts to the passing cars
“We’re having PEACE!”
Page 6 of 9
Typing as I walk
How is it that I ever manage to write anything at all
Or even have a thought to myself
For that matter
That leaf
Look at the way that leaf moves
Jiggering : jittering : jiggling : quivering
One of so many Yet it caught my eye
Where is the face in the tree I used to fancy I could see
Oh Nature
You move and change so radically and yet so subtly
How do we fall so easily into the arrogance of certainty?
The certainty is that we are part of you.
To stay attuned to this is satisfaction
Contentment
Connection with ourselves in this moment
We are in you and you in us.
It’s going to be ok.
It already is ok.
Feeding this moment of noticing how ok it already is.
Feeling this ok moment.
Soothing my nervous system As the rhythm of my breath Synchs with the pace of nature
I find that now, here in this new moment, things are still ok
Maybe even a little bit more ok
Thank you Mother Earth For holding me so safely
I know I am at home in your embrace
I will care for you sincerely All the days of this life.
I love you.
The small dog
Against my will, my loyal will
The small dog, semi-orphan, ill-trained, cuter than I could wish for
Has bonded to me
I see our similarities, and surrender to her tender sweetness, softening my heart to allow her silver fluff to soak up the blood still pouring from the gaping wound left by the death of my longest love
Good girl to come
Good girl to sit
Good girl to stay
Crave
Bobbing in our salience
We seek the illusion of certainty
Thinking we have more control than we do
And taking less than what we could
Action
Surrender
What time
“So what time do you think you’ll be here?”
“Round four thirty five“
“Do you mean around thirty five minutes past four, or between four thirty and five?”
“ …”
Government Letter Surrealist Poem
Word clusters determined by the roll of a dice.
you
I see you work hard
Controlling your surrender
The rust pays no heed
Humbling
Oh how humbling it is
To have a body
Ever at the whim of seasonal changes
Internal
External
And that thing that exists both in and out
The breath
So susceptible.
It can be taken away by an awe-inspiring sight.
Shortened by excitement, fear, frenzied activity.
Also, the eyeballs.
Fucking hell!
What sensitive, open freaks of brain extension they are.
Mine are sensitive.
my breath, and my eyeballs.
Spritely Musings 