Last night, as I posted, the words of a paragraph began to take shape as a poem and Mary Oliver’s words echoed for me.
Today, I took those words and echoes and finished the poem. It has been some time since I wrote a poem. Perhaps, without the urgency of writing a dissertation, this just happened. As well, the break without a need to read and write may have helped and freshened my desire to write differently.
There is no sense of urgency.
Here, I am in the shadow of nature
It uplifts, holding me close.
Nature reminds of less mechanical ways and times;
Of just being and living in the moment.
Pelicans dive bomb the surf in an instinctive search,
Oblivious to me, they bob on the waves.
At night, stars fill darkness and stillness,
They wait to be touched.
Oxen pull a plow across the hardpan soil,
They follow a deep-rooted instinct lost on me
The horse trotts a path, familiar to it
I sway, recalling greater comfort the last time I rode.
I recall days past.
I unsmother moments, days and experiences
My dreams call out to me;
They breathe life into my being.
Here, I sense what it might mean to live and just be.
Without urgency, there is a lightness in my gait.