Tracks

The grey skies
speak to me today
as I touch the
silver bone I
wear around my neck
to remind me of what
I already know:

what I am -
what I can do.

The days when
I can’t see it
come so often,

but truth doesn’t fade
just because it isn’t seen,

and I know that
all I need is coded
in my very cells.

Yesterday on our walk
I took a photograph of
tire tracks left in the mud.
They were not extraordinary
and I wondered why I stopped,
what pulled me there.

I am not
particularly
extraordinary
I think to myself
looking at my
messy desk and
empty coffee cup

but I still like
when someone
stops to notice
me.

IMG_6699

Suddenly and Slowly

At the end of a long
dusty summer the
plants and I greedily
drink up that first rain,
the cool spreading
through our veins,

and I wonder
if there will ever be
enough of me to go around.

Despite all my stretching
and straining I
come up
short
again
and again.

The rain continues and I
watch our hillside turn
from brown to green
under cloudy skies.

I see suddenly
that all that lives
is holy

and I realize slowly
that the answer is always
a question of purpose.

This time
let unfinished

be enough.