life is a poetic dream

I apologize for my absence.  It has been a busy few days.  My cousin Margaret  came here from Kentucky and our families combined for a camp trip.

I wrote a poem today.
As it brushes wistfully with deliberate chance through the follicles of the trees, the living air finds a brief opportunity to dance in my lungs and my blood sings and my feet leap.


That's what happens when I forget my head-phones on the way to work.  My mind wanders, I check FB one or twice, and seeing no inspiring words, I add my own.     That's not entirely true.  I checked it about three times looking for inspriration, and after the third time, my mother-n-law, Mary posted this;

THE PEACE OF WILD THINGS

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
— Wendell Berry

In which I responded;  
A symphonic arrangement of words that paints as a quilt the serene restlessness of a radiant spirit.