Walking to my favorite secluded spot
down the hill by the stream
to listen or try to listen
to Spring’s whispering awakening—
the early bulbs blooming
some trees budding
creating a certain scent
in the air and a feeling.
Walking to my favorite secluded spot
down the hill by the stream
to listen or try to listen
to Spring’s whispering awakening—
the early bulbs blooming
some trees budding
creating a certain scent
in the air and a feeling.
I take my seat retrieving
my journal and pen
and as if on queue
the crows also arrive
cawing noisily up the ridge
flying from tree to tree
it seems with no purpose
except to distract and test me—
what can I do but smile?
Admittedly their cawing isn’t
pleasing to my ear or their forms
an esthetically uplifting sight
my tendency to be annoyed
I have to let go
as they are not my favorite
remembering them in trash heaps
the Bhagavat’s example of
lowly, the opposite of the Swan
yet every creature has its place
in Krishna’s world—like it or not!
At this point in the poem
they are gone with
the returning quite of the forest
along with more subtle sounds
near and far, the frogs down stream
at the pond, somewhere dogs bark,
muffled in the distance
the roar of the car farther away
O, the threatening dark clouds above
make good their potential
bringing slow rain drops
the rush of the wind announces
it may be a downpour as this
time of year is unpredictable!
My umbrella goes up
hoping to wait out the storm
now with only the rain’s sound
trying to keep dry
the wind surrounds me
chill on my hands and face
the smell of wet leaves
the streams speed increases
O, the simple pleasures in life
in Nature without new styles
we only have to show up
with our desire, attention
and a curious eye
so much can be learned
never boring, always something
new to discover (without or within)!
As suddenly as it came
the rain abates
only the sound
of drops from the branches
in soft, indirect light
coming through the clouds
seeming mystical, enchanting
heightening the mosses green
contrasting the gray and browns
since no leaves are on the trees
drawing attention to the bark
so varied in texture
and soon Spring’s full force
will paint the forest
in that special,
intense Spring green–
Krishna says he is Spring!
