Thursday, February 21, 2008

soft rain, sitting and a pot of soup

looking out the window I see crystal clear drops on everything
rain is constant, branches and sky and rooftop and fence  all grey
tread softly so it is possible to hear the vireo's whistle, crow's distant call
not even the red shouldered hawk making any extra noise
soft muted day prepares me for the coming noisy spring

filling out a form for the gym trainer today... how many hours do you sit every day?
never, I say.  oh, it takes me an hour every day to drive to work and back.
that's sitting.  I am sitting right now, and blogging can take another hour.
oh, this winter I subscribed to Netflix.  eek, that is two hours, every night.
Gilbert Grape was worth it, I could've run away with Mr. Depp.  Meditation
is another 1/2 hour, sometimes an hour, then there is prayer and reading.
Sometimes I sit for an hour and stare out the window, like every other poet.

Lately I have been examining the word "allow."  periodically I use it in a sentence.
I allow you to show me you.  I allow that I live in a friendly universe.  I allow
beauty to enfold me.  I allow love to fill every possible cranny in this sometimes
convoluted mind.  I allow this day to unfold moment by moment.  

It has occurred to me that I may have never experienced this before, this allowing.

The soup pot simmers with chicken Italian sausage, potatoes, carrots
some beans, corn and tomatoes I dried this past fall.  Divine smells waft
from the kitchen stove.  The broth becomes rich and savory.  I allow
this heavenly moment to nourish every particle of my Being.


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