She pauses midday,
tickles forest's edge with fingers
warm and tender. Beckons me
take notice, give thanks,
humble myself I am not her keeper.
A hectic pace I often set, ignore
her seasonal rhythm, treat life
as a race. Will I gasp breathless
when blue skies darken, unprepared
to be tucked beneath roots and leaves?
Or will I grasp hold her hand, breath deeply
her mother's nature, accept her promise
to cradle woes as I skip after milkweed tufts
as if childhood dreams of long ago?
Will I learn to court her with smiling face
and eager heart?
by Margaret Bednar, January 10, 2014
This is linked with my monthly challenge over at "Imaginary Garden of Real Toad's - Artistic Interpretations". Please feel free to join in the creativity!
Also linked with dVerse - Meeting the Bar - Looking Back, Looking Ahead - I chose the "Hearth, Home, and Common Speech" challenge.