Monday, June 30, 2014

7:49 PM


Aaaand the retreat begins.
First there must be
a withdrawal from all
to which I have become
accustomed and addicted, including:

* responding to others' needs
* writing to speak to those needs
* sucking worth out of those responses

There's a crow in a tree
about 100 feet from the front window.
He's been calling for the past hour,
as I finished some work.

As soon as I settled,
he stopped. I'm pretty sure
that's God, patiently, plaintively cawing.

Now I hear the dogs (coyotes?)
begin their sunset song.
But only for a few minutes.
Then a sacred silence floats in.

The trees dance their green at me,
as the wind pulses its ever-erratic rhythm
through their nimble extremities.

The sky's once-dense rain-fog
returns to a steamy afternoon blue,
only to succumb to dusk's pink ribbons.


As the colors fade into evening's gray,
the lightning bugs begin their survival-flash,
conjuring progeny into the fading light.

All through the dimming,
I hear the wind say - for the first time
since I-don't-know-when -

"I sing this song for you every day,
not for you to YouTube it
for someone else, but for your pleasure;

for no other purpose than
your soaking-up the unconditionality
of my grace poured
into evening's sky for pure joy."

Surely but steadily, all of the ego
and pettiness with which my world
has been surrounded begin
to fade with the sun's sinking.

The stillness of holy darkness
gently blows her peace
through the open screens.

I know that I could breathe
like this forever.
Maybe I will.


© 2014 Todd Jenkins

1 comment: