Each morning, still and observant,
quiet and receptive, I sing my own
daily not-routine, as others rush
to work, their watches ticking,
to work, their watches ticking,
their schedules masked over
with unending lists of urgent 'to do'.
with unending lists of urgent 'to do'.
Instead, I ponder the craft
that led to this tiny, delicate carving of a raven,
black obsidian, about as big as my index finger,
black obsidian, about as big as my index finger,
and wonder at the memory
of walking through a lava tube on Kona, so eerily large,
easily twenty feet high and several hundred feet long.
Once hot lava rushed like commuters to the sea,
of walking through a lava tube on Kona, so eerily large,
easily twenty feet high and several hundred feet long.
Once hot lava rushed like commuters to the sea,
building new land,
as it flowed on its own schedule.
as it flowed on its own schedule.
Perhaps I'm grateful each day for this quiet time,
perhaps I do miss working at times.
These days, retired, I create my own sense of order,
and choose when to catch up.
Sunset at Kona (2022)
Lovely, thought provoking. I can see the lava tubes, I feel as if I am there with you. Thank you for your words. They calm. I am thankful that I am no longer bound by the rush to work.
ReplyDelete