First SongPosted: August 21, 2014 Filed under: Meditation, Yoga | Tags: compassion, First Song, freshly pressed, gratitude, Joseph Stroud, love, Mindfulness, passion, Poetry, Prose, yoga 4 Comments
That long-ago morning at Ruth’s farm
when I hid in the wisteria
and watched hummingbirds. I thought
the ruby or gold that gleamed on their throats
was the honeyed blood of flowers.
They would stick their piercing beaks
into a crown of petals until their heads
disappeared. The blossoms blurred into wings,
and the breathing I heard
was the thin, moving stems of wisteria.
That night, my face pressed against the window,
I looked out into the dark
where the moon drowned in the willows
by the pond. My heart, bloodstone,
turned. That long night, the farm,
those jeweled birds, all these gone years.
The horses standing quiet and huge
in the moon-crossing blackness.
The glories of the countryside bring stillness to our hearts.
… I simply can not get enough 🙂
I hope you have a great weekend in store, take care!
The image and the words are a good combination–well done.
Thank you so much 🙂