seeking, the color of moments, Uncategorized

Drop 61: the land is good


A handful of mustard seeds….. a measure of my faith…. dots against the blue sky like birds…. flock leaving for the season…… as I scatter them to the earth

A stone on my sill……. mountain to be moved……. waits for the pane to be lifted….. waits for the pain to be lifted….. for new air to circulate through a winter room….. for new blood to leave a winter heart stuck in a million years…..

And bashful changes…… reticent as they come….. inevitable occurrences…. undeniable as the turn……. cloaked and robed in royal satin…. majestic in modesty….. footfalls against the wind like wise men…..

Look up towards the stars…… see what is beyond…. the impossible beyond…. unfathomable depth of what’s to come…. face the unfathomable depth of what’s to come in the active participle of the beyond……

And in the fall felt falling tripping over color….. hemmed in by snow by feathery winter….. sits…. a layer of chill….. preserving life at it’s last gasp….. preserving lungs stuck in inhalation…..

And tiny buds in springtime they do come…. across branch and little corners….of earth throughout the city…… come to sit across a mossy log…. under a loping green loved branch…..

….and wait for my beyond…..

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