Every morning after meditation I walk
Rain
overnight leaves puddles
A Blackbird showers itself with vigour
I stop, enjoying
the spectacle
Both taking pleasure
On through the tranquil village
Every house
named
A clue to it’s owners dreams
One is called ‘ Mole Meadow ‘
Wind in the
Willows perhaps?
I think I would like the occupants
After the houses the lane
narrows
The local bus murmurs towards me
I step on the bank allowing passage
The
driver waves acknowledgement
Our eyes meet, we both smile
She has a happy smiling
face
Presently I reach the river at the ferry
The ferry is no more, just an old
pub
The river is dark, flowing with power
I turn to return, musing on metaphor
Near
the small shop is a village pond
Two shy Moorhens in peaceful residence
This
winters day sunny and so, so mild
All around life is impatient to spring
My
thoughts return to the river
There before me and after me
Buddhists believe in
rebirth
Continuity in some form I believe
Possibly the nutrient for a new tree
On
that tree will sit a new Blackbird
I am happy with that thought
It will be enough
No comments:
Post a Comment
Plesae leave feedback and comments. It would be nice to know you visited. Thank you.