The sky is pulling closer to the earth
My feet sink into mud
Shallow and slippery
Breathing is a damp mist
I do this and then it is done
Another day opened without a sun
Cold grey mornings strung together
A necklace of prayers
Mental fingers counting every one
Monday
Tuesday
Wednesday
The to do list chants in time to the rhythm of my feet
I ignore it
Watching three cranes in flight
Free spirits clad in feathers
No wonder they are light
Their days have no label
No bead strung along a calendar to flip over
Say this day
This day is the day it changes
I change
But Monday comes around again
And the cranes have landed
Far away, out west
By a body of water in the middle of nowhere
They dip to fish
Stride the shallow waters with long bent legs
Their souls dwell in temporary chests
Soaring aloft
Their bones disappear
Were they ever here?
Was I?
Only our mental constructs bind us to this moment
The cranes fish, tend their hatchlings
And die
Blending with the mud
And I keep running
Because Tuesday is coming
And my mind likes to think itself important
So good to hear from you, Kate 🙂
Lovely to hear from you too Rosaliene, I have been writing to the side but it’s not the same as when I write for the blog – sharing words is always more pleasurable than simply tumbling them into the void 😊
nice to see you Kate. yes life is both a circle and a litany of Pater Noster and Ave Maria s !~
For sure 😊
Powerful imagery. Wow!
Hi Monty ✨thanks 😊