Wonder

 

Have you noticed children squatting,
captivated by an ant and following 
every movement as it crawls way?

Or smiled as they pluck dandelions' seedheads,
blowing the fluff with abandon and 
giggling all the while?

It doesn't have to a field of Monarchs
or an orange dragonfly hovering above a pond.
It might be a few black ants
carrying a crumb
across the sidewalk.

It doesn't have to be a forest
or a garden's riot of color.
It might be a solitary dandelion
growing brazenly beside a
busy parking lot.

"Let the children come," He said.
Let us all be children
once again.

Steward of Time

 

The oriole is singing again
after days of silence,
so I stop what I am doing, 
and listen to
the sweetness of his song.
One last, perfect peony
is blooming in the garden,
so I pause,
and bend low,
inhaling the
sweetness of her scent.

Bees are on the beardtongue,
and fledgling cardinals on the fence,
startled by frenzied ruby-throats
zipping by.
Chipmunks, their cheeks bulging, dash to and fro,
as young rabbits sample young clover
and the gnat's wings and 
tall meadow grasses glisten,
backlit by the rising sun.

The breezes that caress the ostrich ferns
caress my cheeks too,
joining me to the Oneness,
of all living things. 
Invited into contemplation,
invited into the now,
I have become a steward of the moment.
I have become a steward of time.