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When the wind is calm
And the trees unbowed, We find leaves scattered on the floor And a million hopes for summer gone The tree's weep, and so do we. Winter comes, Hides all with a thick blanket of snow. We freeze, the comfort paralyses. Spring The tree's start to bud And our heart's lift.
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Where the world ends and we begin is a curious thing,
We feel the world through our bones , drape ourselves in it's beauty, clothe ourselves in its majesty. Sometimes we sense the misery of our friends seeping into feet and chilling our heart We find ourselves too frozen to answer, powerless to act and cry teas of ice Sometimes the heat of their happiness burns our skin, charring our embrace, searing our lips just as we want to reach out and congratulate them. How much more soothing is a woodland walk, tree's lit by dappled sunlight and the dancing of birdsong in our ear drums. How much safer to feel the drumming of our feet on tarmac in the deepest part of our belly, how much wider is the world when we encompass it. The white branches in our foreheads grow tall and strong, they cover our gaze and we peak out through them.We curl up in their embrace, the twisting of the limbs as they reach out through our senses gives us incredible beauty, incredible sadness, incredible joy. Joy in small things
Minute, tiny, twinkles of thought. In structure and lines In conversations bigger than the world In too many things to think at once In ordering In beauty that strikes me to the core Rendering me breathless with bliss In shapes and stars and dates In watching the breath and calming the mind In watching the mind dance on the beauty of thought In textures soft and smooth and fur In music, expressing love In happiness |
Rachel CottonArchives
December 2018
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