Reverence: Year Two

Then there’s this:

the slow frustrating car ride

up a hill,

with no way to pass a driver,

who is weaving across

lines that portend catastrophe,

and

rain that could be snow,

lots of it,

 how to block out the sound,

against window,

siding,

and mind,

when all I want to do is rejoice,

at what I have found here,

on earth.

 

Early morning yoga with dogs, 

remains of a gathering

that was mostly laughter blessed,

the toasts rang true,

the stories new,

discovering folds within folds,

of lives before we were us now.

 

Stories that fill in,

enhance,

invoke a reverent sense of stillness,

taking in and boldly listening,

absorbing and integrating,

what wasn’t known,

but now is,

and then seeing it:

the slow ride up a hill,

behind a car that’s weaving,

rain instead of snow,

stories new.

 

Reverence.

 

I am here in stillness.

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