Tuesday, May 3, 2016



Easier these latter years to be content
with everyday chores, ordinary mind

knowing its once distracting visions
come to naught at best, heartache more;

that flailing away at ourselves redeems not
the future, serving only to entrench

even further the recalcitrant self. 
All life’s conflicts are resolved here –

in the sparrow’s wing, the hand on the plow,
the hammer of the bell, the eternally shifting now.

Consuming our simple breakfast,
strolling the April garden, a tune

sung in the quiet dusk - a cul-de-sac,
not a crossroads of judgments, decisions;

regrets and desires, realized or thwarted.
No running out of time here.

Thoroughly encountering the mundane,
the mundane becomes unworldly,

extraordinary, no sacrifice –
enough, enough, more than enough.

O child of God, whatsoever thy hand findeth to do,
rest assured, it has just left the fingertips of God.
(photo by adrianaromundo - pixabay)

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