a song so very whole…

 

Early I walked,

*

As the rain came bold

From a heavy sky

The drums, they thundered

Inviting me to dance along

Yes, I said

Without ever asking why…

*

Soft and steady

Stronger now

On and on they fell

My footsteps, and the rain…

Droplets gathered

On the tip ends of the trees

And not a word was written

Not one, not by me

*

But, they are waiting,

Closer than you think,

Can you hear them rolling in the thunder

Do you know them warming in your soul…

*

Slow yourself,

In a delicious kind of way

And, let the rain sing to you…

*

Let it take you in

Become a part of it

No longer a page,

Of broken notes

Instead,

….a song…so very whole…

It is enough to dampen your skin

But not your spirit,

Everything it touches

Echoes with a different tone

A harmony of melodies

Heretofore unknown

Discover yourself

…wandering,

no longer in the woods

but, through the very music itself

raindrops gently on the leaves

and the bark

and the pine straw floor…

here a piano

there a violin,

drums to the heavens

cellos to the depths

and yes…even upon

your soft wet skin…

the stage is simple…

the composer unseen…

and you the only audience

to this song of a lifetime

played within a dream…

Early I walked in the rain…

*

And so it is,

That I wrote

Nothing at all…

****

ellie894 March 8, 2020

faded colors, sweet potatoes and a shower of champagne…

July 14, 2019

Despite the heat,

I have been outdoors

For the last two days

Tending

To roses

And grasses

And trees

The sunny dappled garden of my days

I even dug in the dirt

To plant the already sprouting

Sweet potatoes

I offered them a better home

Than their pantry basket

Did you know

If given the chance

They make a lovely vine

The tendrils are delicate

The leaves decorous

And the green is decidedly delightful

So it was

That I was

Tired and sore

And, I almost did not walk last evening

But,

I changed my mind at the last

And went ahead anyway

How happy I am for it

For whatever carried me to there

Away from my to dos

And into the fields

Tended by their own dear sky

A wind blew cool from the north

A welcome respite in a Texas July

Bringing along

Snowy whites and threatening grays

It surprised me

And caught me

In a bubbly sparkling rain

How still I stood

To listen

To a thousand fairies

Dancing from leaf to leaf

In joyful innocence

Open the eyes of your heart

Their silvery wings whispered to me

And so I turned

From beneath the cover

And protection of the juniper

To see

An enchanting bow of faded colors

Filling the air with hope

And my dreams with surrender

I imagine it to be a circle

And wonder where it travels to

Beyond where I can see

Into a brightest elsewhere

Of love’s eternal hide and seek

How very grateful I am

That wonder called to me

And I listened…

Behind every poem is a fullness of thought. So it is with this one. On a July day, I planted sweet potatoes. I walked to a hilltop where rain caught me. I marveled at a rainbow arching over field, forest and home. And, I listened.

Recently I read a small book about cultivating silence. Thinking about silence suddenly makes you keenly aware of all the sounds that you hear. Silence reminds me to listen.

Even though everyone, including me is bestowing Happy Autumn wishes, it is still summer in Texas. It’s nearly October and this very minute I hear the sound of the sprinkler rhythmically turning under the holly tree, splashing everything in its path.

Hummingbirds are performing a brilliant “cirque de soleil”. I am the lucky soul with a free front row seat! They twitter and hum as they playfully zip-zing and then rest for a time among the prickled leaves. The hummers eat more in September than at any other time of the year. I think it’s because they’ll leave me soon. They’re fattening up before their long journey. I wonder what their tropical getaway looks like and whether they miss the holly tree.

Those sweet potatoes that I planted are so cheerful! If I can keep Jack and Dobby from romping through them they will grow all the way into December. I giggle that I find so much to love about them. You see, I’ve never liked to eat sweet potatoes. When I was a child I couldn’t stand them no matter how deliciously you dressed them up. Even marshmallows made no difference to me.

Gosh Mimi, those sweet potatoes smell good.

Would you like some, suzanne?

No thank you.

In truth I probably made a squinchy face and said Blech as they were heaped on my plate. If only I had had Bo back then. He would have sat blissfully at my elbow scarfing down every yucky bite I snuck to him. But, that’s a story for another day, aptly titled – The Dog Eats Half My Food!

Now, I eat sweet potatoes twice a year. They’re fine. But, I will never be a fan.

However, I do love to watch them grow. They create a twirling elegant vine. In autumn I buy them fresh at farmers’ roadside markets. Some I cook. The rest wait to be planted the following spring. I know, July is nowhere near spring. I was incredibly late this year. Nevertheless, in the ground they went.

I didn’t have very high hopes for them. After all, we were heading into the hottest driest part of the year. Who plants anything in July?! This year, I did. And, you know what? They have grown above and beyond my expectations. They are the happiest little patch of heart shaped leaves and curling tendrils that you can possibly imagine. They have spread like a low lush forest. You never can tell who might be playing in there…

Back to that July afternoon –

There was rain! Fluffy clouds rolled in and surprised me. It hinted of champagne. A cork joyously popped!! Bubbles spilled over the edges and the sky winked at me as if there was something special about this moment. And there I was caught right in the lovely center of it. I can still hear the drops cascading around me in my secluded hilltop waterfall.

There was a rainbow! Have you ever noticed how silent they are. Not a single sound. They come and go without ever crying out or begging to be seen. How many do we miss because we are occupied in thought or in doing. But this one…I heard. In its own gentle voice it rhymed and sang and invited me to dance. The colors gathered me and sailed me to far away places…into enticing dreamscapes as I wondered where its other half might be. I stayed and stayed not wanting to miss a single tender hue or precious step.

And, then there were sweet potatoes. They lay quietly in their dark underground cavern listening…to the earth and the rain and the colors of the rainbow telling them All that they would become…in time.

The last few months have been parched. I don’t have an answer. Sometimes life is like that. Dry and dusty. You wait, for rain and for hope to come. In the meantime, you do what you can. Turn on the sprinkler. Enjoy the hummers. Be someone’s rainbow. And, listen to the sweet potatoes grow…

May your spirit find refreshment in listening to the soft and silent things that touch your heart.

Suzanne ❤️

****

ellie894 September 29, 2019

Note there are no photos of actual sweet potatoes or casseroles in this post because…you know, reasons. 😉

softened by rainy days



Gently this day wakes to the humming of the fan and a chill in the air. I’m happy for that. The last few weeks have been fast and furious. Let them be softened by time and rainy days. 

May something good come of it all…. 


There were plenty of good things along the way to be sure!  



A few extra feet joined in my walk. They were a grand and welcome treat! One fuzzy life hopped away! Criss cross applesauce hands in my lap with some sweet tiny friends! The sharing of a lightbulb moment! A simple meal at the end of a long week! Being a part of the very first author event of someone so very dear to me!  


Prayer and poetry and peaceful moments…unopened books waiting for me…


The first pumpkin bread of the season warmed my kitchen from the inside out. The sweet scent of it drifted from room to room, a cozy reminder that autumn is truly and finally here. I shared it fresh from the oven. When I delivered the first loaf it was still warm in its shiny foil wrapper. Five loaves gone in two short days. I will happily bake more. It is a joy of the season for me! First to bake it. Then to give it away. Except the slices I taste test for quality control… 



But there was a hole I never could quite climb out of. No ladder. No rope. No foothold. 


Over the weekend we received some very much needed rain…


I found myself walking in the rain at dusk, such a perfect reflection of my thoughts. There’s nothing quite so nice at times as wandering the woods in a light rain. Pull my ponytail through a baseball cap and head out the door and down the trail…



The dogs will not go out in the rain on purpose…unless I do. If I go, they go. My constant companions stay closer when it rains, pausing every few steps to be sure. Looking back at me. Are we really doing this? Yes…we are. Keep going. Ok then. If you say so. 



What I can see of the sky is grayish white. It feels more like fog than sky, the way the clouds encircle me from every which way holding me tight to the ground. Tight to myself. Rain washes over the landscape painting all of the colors a darker shade of whatever they already are. Leaves and bark and flowers too…Everything takes in the life giving water… and changes.  



The lake stretches out before me. Open and waiting. Tiny circles dot the surface here and there…teardrops falling gently from the sky. The pond silently accepts them with no questions asked. Each one makes a difference. I gaze a while, watching the tiny droplets one by one become part of something so much bigger than themselves. Giving themselves away. Disappearing in the whole. 


We are at our best when we give ourselves away…



Deeper amidst the trees now Mozart thunders in my ear. He is a perfect complement to birds and light footsteps on a wet woodland path. The rain comes rhythmically like musical notes. From cloud to branch it falls like fingers on a keyboard composing a brilliant song! Drops that catch nearby are strong like drumbeats. They pound at the thirsty earth. While others never make it through the treetops remaining so faded and far away. They echo softly in reply to their own question.  



Then there are the closest drops, the ones that soak your clothes and glisten on your skin, the ones that chill you or refresh you, the ones you keep for your very own and make all the difference…those drops you cannot hear at all. They do not have a sound. They silently disappear. Perhaps they become part of you just as the ones that offer themselves to fill the lake.   



There is a gift in even the most trying times if I see with heart instead of eyes alone. Sometimes those gifts, the ones that come in the silent tears of the wind and rain, are the most precious ones after all.


Today is a new beginning, a very innocent one, fresh and full of promise. What secret destination awaits…