MORNING

As I sit with the morning,
I am moved by the ordinary.
The birds long awake now,
Gently singing,
And flitting about … 
without ruckus or commotion.
A swan, as if on cue,
Gliding silently through the water,
Also alone.
The shadows, 
So present,
So in keeping with their calling.
Masters of flexibility.
Mirroring.
Sundials before sundials came to be.
The water, always moving.
Glimmering.
A million points of sunlight.
Anchoring this space.
If water can anchor.

I find my breath.
And breath with the ripples.
The simplicity is right and good.
And my heart actually grows.
It feels oxymoranic 
That this Silence; Unpretentiousness; Aloneness 
Can breed this kind of depth.
In my inner being.
I come down from whatever plane of unconsciousness
Where I spend much of my time.
And I land in this moment.
No one is performing for anyone.
Or defending.
Or elevating.
The necessity of quiet and stillness?
It’s no secret.
I’m not sure why every time I do it,
I’m stunned by it’s transformative work.
That familar but kind invitation to repentance.
By the end of my minutes here,
I am new.
Though also destroyed for the thought of moving into the day,
and deeply in love
with right here.
Right now.

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