The fragrant cinnamon sprinkled on my oatmeal Fills my nostrils Signaling the start of my day. I break the fast And gratefully accept The flavors of blueberry, apple, and walnuts. It is but a few minutes Of quiet nourishment. And I try not to get lost in thought Of have-to’s and time constraints. Each morning is like this. A brief moment to savor Before the mad rush of Getting the kids ready for school And my morning commute to work. All is still Just in this moment. The floating fragrant cinnamon oatmeal Fulfills and fuels me. For I know not what today brings. But for now, Just in this moment, I am nourished and whole.
We emerge from our winter slumber. It is still dark outside. The sun has yet to greet the horizon. The house is aglow Lit with joy and glee For Christmas is here. And the big Jolly Elf Emptied his sack The giving and generous spirit he is. The children can’t hardly wait! They’ve counted down the days. It’s taken so long, it seems, For this day to appear. The presents are lovingly wrapped In festive colored paper of snowmen, Santa himself, Reindeer and penguins. They shimmer in the Sparkling Christmas lights Under the tree. It's the moment we’ve all been waiting for. Let’s tear into the mysteries That lie beneath The paper and tape that sheathes its true contents. Paper is tossed into a huge pile. Opened packages are placed in neat rows. A surprise accompanies a feigned smile, Sometimes confusion Or a true delight. I savor the magic in the air Music softly plays A fireplace flame flickers on the screen. The kids sneak a bite of candy or two. There on the floor, Under the tree now bare Its goods all opened All before breakfast.
My hands cupped around the warm coffee mug. It is full of aroma And I savor the flavor. My fingers hook gently yet firmly on the handle as I bring it in for a sip. The warm liquid gets swallowed down my throat as I promptly go in for another taste. If I get distracted with conversation, with technology, with making future plans or anything that takes me away from the simple pleasure of drinking fresh coffee, the liquid starts to cool and moment by moment, its flavor gets diminished. The joy and pleasure is fleeting. And it is my intention and attention alone that keeps me centered in the here and now and not in autopilot. The warm flavor recedes like the rip current that calls waves back into the sea. I can still feel the faint warmth of my coffee mug cupped gently in my hands. I do not want to squander one bit of this temporary reprieve of the hustle and bustle of what we call modern life.
The blackberries the quintessential fruit of summer. On the brink of harvest in the heat of morning sun. They sit patiently an offering. Do I accept the invitation? There is nothing like fresh fruit the burst of flavor on my tongue. The dark stained hands from the fleshy bells. On my chin and darkened my tongue. The fruit is not forbidden or only for the chosen few. Only to those who happen to look up at the sky and notice that there’s more than meets the ordinary eye. There is some effort. I must confess. Before you can savor the reward of your labors. It takes the body to the edge just beyond reach. With added vigor and strength, I can reach what I desire. It is now in my grasp and my body relaxes and breathes. Sighing as I place the dark bell into my mouth. Yes, I’ll save some for later and share the bounty. But right now this is just for me. This moment. This effort. This delicious reverie is mine to savor. So I do. Not caught up in agendas, past stories or future thinking. Just the blackberries The offering and Me the willing recipient. And I am filled with awe and gratitude for the fresh delectable flesh. Just mine. All mine. I touch the tree’s bark and look up in the branches. There is more than enough for everyone. For the birds, the insects, the squirrels and me. All sharing a Thanksgiving feast. The tree accepts all and turns away none. Is generous and sharing to all who visit her and enjoying her gift in her presence is the true gift.