July 24, 2009

A Bit of Poetry

I leave my shoes on the shore and feel my way with my toes along the smooth, slippery rocks of the creek. Arms outstrethced I sing a tune feeling more like a creation dancer than a girl-child trying to keep balance. I see my rock, partly sunny, big enough to sit and maybe lay, mostly clear of moss and other forest foliage. I sit in revernce. I sit in awe. I sit and open my senses, receptive to what Creator God might speak to my heart this day.

The rush of the water and occassional bird song fill my ears. The persistent flies partially distract me as I wiggly my toes, then shake my foot, then wiggly my toes again to invite them off.

As I watch the stream, my eye catches on a single, white flower; a Rhododendron cup taken by the current, yet it doesn't seem to mind. It floats, perfectly content to be moved by the water's mind. Over a rock it twists, but doesn't lose balance. It stays vertical almost like it, too, is watching the stream, being spoken to.

Around another rock the flower floats close to shore and gets catught in a tiny, silent pool. It circles the pool once, twice, looking for a way back in, but the rushing current holds it in the stillness of this new place. Eventually, the flower, too, stills, relaxes. It's as if it says, "Okay, I can like it here, too."

I am amazed at how long the flower stays at rest, knowing that at any moment the current will catch a petal and pull it back into the rush of things. But, no, it floats still and calm and beautiful.

I take my eyes upstream for just a moment, a glance beyond my little Rhododendron novella, then back to the empty pool.

1 comment:

  1. Thanks for sharing, and creating such a refreshing mood. Welcome back.