Clouds could not contain
its brightness-squinting
I looked only long enough
to snap two photographs
Side by side, the difference
was slow to appear, slight
adjustment of time, seconds,
but a revelation for eternity
Closer to the light than
I could ever hope to be
flying across the sky
wings spread wide and free
Light held in clouds
yet, bright enough
to carry him forward
into the hope of his future
Logic would say today is gray
Tell me to move on
I take a second look, then a third
Subtle color variations appear
Lines of demarcation between
Heaven and Earth seem to ripple
within the rhythm of the wind
I keep looking until a tiny
semblance of light appears
from behind wispy layers
It doesn’t last long
Only a few seconds and a smile
Darkness covers the faded colors
Now, the sky is gray
Rain begins to fall
I smile again, grateful for those
subtle variations gracing
the morning sky-Preparing me
for the slow unfolding of today
A beginning so strange,
so pure and innocent.
A sweet baby
lying on its back
feet up in the air
a perfect button nose
evident in its profile-
A picture that changes
so quickly, it is like
a stretched-out cloud
that holds its shape
only until the next
breeze blows by.
Perhaps it was
a cloud I saw,
and not a baby.
Both are strange,
pure, and innocent.
And if a cloud can remind me
of a precious baby, well,
Therein lies another mystery.
Sometimes my brain
feels overcrowded.
Like, there’s not enough space
for all my thoughts to process.
Then one word emerges
from the muck.
Spaciousness.
My busy thoughts pause-
It does exist.
Spaciousness.
Between the time you were born
and the person you’ve become.
Between the first dark cloud
of a storm and the last drop of rain.
Between each breath I take,
as I slow down to watch
clouds gracefully float past.
Have you ever noticed
how certain clouds
appear so put together?
Smooth and round,
every particle in place.
Gleaming against their
bright, blue background.
Gliding gracefully
through the day.
And then there are the others.
Honestly, I think they
outnumber the first.
Frazzled, edges a little rough.
Looks like they survived
a tornado or hurricane.
Typically draws a second look.
Color is the same, as is
their current backdrop.
Particles are the same, only shifted.
Perhaps they need a
gentle breeze, accompanied
by a genuine smile.
That is, if clouds
respond to smiles.
Last week, I took a walk.
Everyone around me
was running.
In this instance, the results
would be the same.
I suppose that’s what
happens when you get
caught, unprepared,
in a rainstorm.
The thing is, I knew
the rain was approaching.
I knew there was no umbrella
hiding in my backseat.
And still, I chose to
ignore the warning.
Not always a wise choice,
but this time it was warranted.
Last week, I took a walk.
Drenched from head
to toe, I laughed.
My soul felt lighter.
Then the rain stopped.
Gigi, look at the sky!
I always seem to be
looking at the sky.
Had my granddaughter noticed?
Either way, the reminder
brought a fresh curiosity.
What did her eyes see when
looking at the sky?
I knew she noticed airplanes.
I’d watched her eyes
respond to hearing one
even before it flew into view.
Then watched as she
waved, asking it to come back.
Listening, looking, responding-
Is it that effortless? I think so.
Gig, look at the sky!
A flood of wisdom in
the simplest reminder
from the tiniest voice.
Rushing out the door,
I noticed my sweet, silly cat
stretched out like a pile of
pulled-apart cotton balls.
Driving to work,
I saw a once fluffy cloud
rolled out across the blue sky.
Reminded me of my cat.
Perhaps I need to unroll, stretch.
Not just my body, but also
my head and my heart.
Remaining too long
curled in a fetal position,
Though somewhat comforting,
is counterproductive.
Touch my toes.
Reach my hands skyward.
Lie flat on my back, eyes closed.
Smile or cry, whichever is needed.
Smile and cry at the same time.
That’s my favorite.
Ask for forgiveness.
Say I’m sorry.
Say I love you.
Slow down and stretch.
We walk down the sidewalk.
Our shadows lead the way.
This time, we walk with our shoes on.
Not my preference,
But the cement is hot
from the midday sun.
It would surely burn
your little feet.
Strange, how your shadow
makes you look older-
Mine only makes me look taller.
Interesting companions, our shadows.
They seem to listen as you chatter.
Your sweet voice echoes against
the neighbor’s fence.
Do you see your shadow? I ask.
But you keep walking
and chattering and laughing.
Oh, to be innocent again,
paying no attention to those shadows.
Your only concern?
Walking, chattering, and laughing
in the bright summer sun.
Yes, I am aware.
Some details are missing.
Try to see the bigger picture.
That sounds logical, at first.
As if acceptance makes it easier
to continue down my path.
But then I notice the
smallest of wonders.
From the edges of a nest,
straw is poking out where two wooden
beams are nailed together.
A mother bird is sitting quietly on her eggs.
Seeing the big picture is impossible
without consistently returning
to the small moments.
The fuzzy head of a nestling
is barely seen from the ground.
The nest is crowded with fledglings
almost ready to fly.
Each tiny step in nature, somehow,
a reflection of my life.
I don’t want to miss even the tiniest feather.
Piano Girl 