You sip your tea,
the tang of orange
and the sharp taste
You down the stairs of your hotel,
and stop at the front desk
to discuss the weather,
and the temperature
of the clerk's life.
You pause as you walk out the door,
and breath deeply, taking in
the orange glow beyond the trees
that signal morning's meandering start.
In the office you pause to write a poem,
and listen, listen, and listen some more
as those around you, somehow aware
of your aura of endless time,
pour out their hearts instead
of merely reporting the day's events.
On the drive, you park at the edge of town
to watch the glowing clouds
as they waft past the church,
a peaceful parade in the near dark.
you work, more slowly, resisting
the urge to gallop through your day,
to give in to the myth of speed
ignoring the illusion
that faster somehow
And through a miracle,
no less gets done,
as if in giving up, the universe
has re-arranged itself
to give you everything,
and more.... peace.
The picture was taken in Pawlet, Vermont. You can click on it for a larger version. And yes, I am trying to give up speed for Lent. It's harder than it looks.