Sometimes, I Am Startled Out Of Myself,like this morning, when the wild geese came squawking,
flapping their rusty hinges, and something about their trek
across the sky made me think about my life, the places
of brokenness, the places of sorrow, the places where grief
has strung me out to dry. And then the geese come calling,
the leader falling back when tired, another taking her place.
Hope is borne on wings. Look at the trees. They turn to gold
for a brief while, then lose it all each November.
Through the cold months, they stand, take the worst
weather has to offer. And still, they put out shy green leaves
come April, come May. The geese glide over the cornfields,
land on the pond with its sedges and reeds.
You do not have to be wise. Even a goose knows how to find
shelter, where the corn still lies in the stubble and dried stalks.
All we do is pass through here, the best way we can.
They stitch up the sky, and it is whole again.
Barbara Crooker
Perhaps the thing to do in winter is emulate the trees - their restfulness and their slow deep breathing, their perfect stillness and their dreams, their quiet confidence that springtime will come again.
4 comments:
"all we do is pass through here, the best way we can.."
Maybe, if we could all take that simple truth into our hearts, the world really could become a better place..
Have a blessed and Happy New Year, Cate:)
This was lovely, I have often thought that trees carry a great deal of wisdom with in them. My Grandpa used to tell me to beware of old oaks, I wish i had asked him why before he died.
Thanks, this was very peaceful place / piece.
Today (back after a break from a job that I do not enjoy) I think I would rather be a tree. I am trying very hard to breathe slowly and be glad to be alive.
From my office window, I can see two fir trees tossing in the wind of a stormy grey day.
I would still rather be a tree...
I must breathe some more...
Ah, the cycles of geese and trees. Sad and hopeful, all in one deep breath.
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