Reaching beyond the morning musings of living one more day
I oil my feet for my daily walk of miles to destinations yet
Dawdling on my horizon…
I stretch and massage, I
Groom and dust them off from yesterday’s missteps—
My hands are empty but full of phrases and thoughts needing
To be sown, maybe even pruned by another’s wisdom.
I limber them up in anxious prayer,
Asking for more than gentle hands but delivering hands—
Life is a tide of salt mixed with seashells you can pick,
Look at and toss back into the revolution never quite seeing
The magic, the dainty intricacies water plays upon them…
Or it can be Revelations that spin, and awakenings that
Splash upon your face with a baptism of fresh eyes!
Its too sad to overlook the singing Oriole and miss a
Full moon along the path of coming to Know
And all because you forgot to wait.
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