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.
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