Poems From The Porch

It is chilly enough to wear a sweatshirt this morning.

I’m wearing the one with a big daisy on it,

a present that I gifted myself for my birthday this year.

My body smiles when I wear it.

The wind catcher on the chime is spinning

the way I used to as a child on the playground

wanting to experience the sway of disequilibrium.

A single dove rushes past

in a hurry to get from here to there.

I wonder what treasures there has for the dove.

I remember when my first child emerged into the world

and the impact he had on my life.

Even at the age of 27,

I was aware of the benefits of present moment awareness

and thought that I was actually practicing it—

that is until my son was born.

It was then that I was truly introduced

to the meaning of being here now.

This infant required my undivided attention, moment-to-moment,

in a way I had never experienced.

And now, I have completely lost any sense of there.

I am not going anywhere but here.

A dear friend recently asked me

what my dreams were for retirement.

It was a kind question,

but meaningless to me now.

The marking of time has dissolved in the eternal present,

but do not mistake this for despair.

Liken it, instead,

to a beautiful passage from the Hebrew scriptures:

“Where can I go from your Spirit?

Where can I flee from your Presence?

If I go to the heavens, you are there;

if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.”

The dove is flying to somewhere else.

Maybe here feels like too much for her in this moment.

I hope she stops long enough

to listen to the soft, reassuring whisper

of the Presence that can never leave her.

As Love coos Her lullaby to me,

I am content to roost here, now.

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