The stretch of grass Once lush and green is now stunted and colorless. Another bright summer has past and the Bountiful harvest has been plucked out. The earth’s gifts enjoyed by both young and old. Their mouths hungrily gobbled up the bounty. And now the ground is bare, colorless Still with no life. In spring the new sprout shows there is No death, no end Just a new beginning. An opportunity to embark On a journey of inner knowing, Inner peace, inner stillness. Uttering hints at what may come to be. Inspired by Walt Whitman “A Child Said, What is the Grass?”
The sea glass is a buried treasure washed to and fro. The water ground down its edges and smoothed its shards. But it is an offering. A reminder that it outlived its original purpose and is anew. Was it thoughtlessly discarded or washed away in a blink of an eye? The incoming tide does that sometimes. Washing away my sandals, the bucket and shovel If I lose sight and forget nature's force for just a minute is all it takes. Now this glass is anew. A new purpose. A treasure. It's opaque and thick I can't see through it But I can hold it Move it from hand to hand Tighten and loosen my grip It has traveled and seen depths unknown to me Except in my imagination. I turn inward and out like a labyrinth trail Like the glass washed over with sand until it and I are polished Anew. A clean slate. A new beginning. A new discovery where there are no more limits. That's how I seize today. Carpe Diem and new moon intentions A belief that endless possibilities lie ahead Once I've done the inner work. Outside circumstances may have shifted in parallel time and space But I am steady and still Even if I don't move from this very spot The earth has shifted and traveled unbeknownst to my beating heart and busy mind. I have traveled, seen and loved, and discovered new shapes and stories about myself.