Wednesday, July 13, 2011

journal entry

The day is ripe, rich, full.
Birdsong,
Conversation in branches.
Green grass, wet from last nights storm,
Cool carpet beneath my feet.
A gentle breeze rustles, leaves sway.
Dappled sunlight on my face.
Butterflies meet in ardent embrace, wings aflutter.
Tea, hot and steaming, beside my foot.

I lounge, peaceful in blue hammock, no need for words.
A savored Silence.

Hollyhocks stretch above window frames, white skirts unfurl.
A garden brags of lettuce and squash, green herbs and ripening tomatoes.
Wind chimes tinkle.

I had planned "doing" something today.
I had "planned" art and sewing and cleaning and work,
But "not doing" seemed more important.
Laying lazy on a hammock, watching storm clouds approach,
Serenaded by birdsong and breeze,
Embraced in warm air and cool grass.
Summer.

1 comment:

Wind said...

What perfection you have described. The storm clouds moving in had their way with me as well. "Lay down on this earth, let go of your smallness" they implored. How could I do anything but surrender?