Holy Now

I am a water pond

still and deep

receptive to nudge of wind

moving me as I had not imagined

in ripples of welcome

from those who land, troll, flit, dunk, glide on me

like an open palm.

I offer the chance

for trees growing alongside

to see reflected their strength, sway, fullness, scant.

I give witness to what changes my surface and depth:

tickling breezes, dancing rain, terrorizing gales, plops of guano,

season after season of falling leaves.

Oh to contain this magic soup, cradling, sustaining–

tadpoles, dragonflies and those I cannot name,

thank me with their lives,

sing summers in baritone and visit with fancy wings.

I am reduced and replenished, know overflow and lack;

the rhythm is not my own to plan;

I harbor the worry of stagnant

but daily rejoice in being

still, deep, ready.


~ November 29, 2018

1 Comment. Leave new


    “sing summers in baritone and visit with fancy wings.”


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