Squiggles!

A poem

Photo by Andrii Podilnyk on Unsplash

Remember as a child
staring at the skies,
and following those defects
and squiggles with your eyes?

Those floating tiny lines
as you stare into the air.
Well my, friend —
THEY ARE STILL THERE!

They've been waiting for you,
those tiny little teachers.
Not for the graspers, the grabbers
or over-reachers.

They come to the still,
the present and aware.
Little teachers teaching,
and sliding across the air.

Just when you see one,
they slide from your sight.
They come in the day,
in the sun's warm light.

A bit like peace!
Wafting around the edges,
by byways, under cliffs,
on plateaus and on ledges.

Thank you tiny teachers!
For what you have taught.

That peace comes from letting go
in sliding,
and being caught.