The soft earth awakens. Fresh dewdrops cling To the blades of grass, To my picnic table, To the windows of my car. Outside the Door The sun has begun Its ascent above the skyline. And its rays begin To splay upon the horizon. In the beginning, Where did man lie down his head each night? Did the morning dew greet him Each sunrise as he awoke? Did he sleep under the stars, In the open air, Or did he seek shelter most nights? The earth is soft and lush. Outside the Door The heat of the summer Has already begun to take ahold. The breeze is my reprieve. The birds are my companion. As we share a moment In the early dawn Before the sunrays get too bright And I, too, must take shelter From the blazing sun.
I cannot see what lies Outside the door When I am safe behind it. I hear voices Loud and bold. Are they broad and jubilant? Are they escalating to laughter or to an argument? A voice raises an octave. The speed of speech quickens. I am nervous and unsure. Do I look and see who is Outside the door? I work in a courthouse. It’s filled with lawyers, defendants and civilians. It’s a rotating door of comings and goings. The clicking of high heels Echo down the hall Until they disappear Around the corner. The walls in my office Are not as thick as One would think. Concrete is not a great insulator Against the reverberant noise. When all is quiet, I hear the tick-tock of the clock High up on the wall. It looks down A bird’s eye view. In the beginning, I had the best office with two huge windows overlooking College Hill. Always the sound of cars, of construction, of landscapers, Even voices of those below Peppered my days. Now I’ve been moved to a more active part of the courthouse. With a small window Overlooking the quad. It is grey no matter the season. The rays of sun Hardly get to seep down Into the square space. Noise permeates outside my door. It is a good thing. Quiet days tend to extend into A very long work day And I am counting the hours Until I can get outside. I crave solitude. At times, I crave The silence. The world is not A quiet place.
When I walked through the open door my mind was made up before the scent of lilacs and roses greeted me. They derailed me woke me out of my inner dialogue of likes/dislikes, shoulds and have tos. The inner chatter fell away like drapes falling off a clothesline. The gust made them take flight and swim along the breeze. Oh, how I wished to drop like the drapes to embody and become one with it all. To let go and truly lose myself for just a moment. Naked, exposed Yet safe to eat the papaya with my bare hands. The juice dripping down my arms. Orange sweet streaks and I laughed at the imperfection. So raw, so real, so present that the daisy and the rose, the drapes and the breeze all encompassed me and I felt true peace.