sunday morning, 10 a.m.

Sitting on a large flat rock
that overhangs pond water
an invitation to perch,
plunge, ponder how grounded

I feel, butt to stone, feet
before me solid at the edge
of still water ruffled
by occasional breeze riffling

chirped morning trills, cheeps
and distant crowing of awake.
A stillness hangs in the warmth,
air barely astir tho abuzz with bee,

fly, hornet and gnat. I walked
through spider thread, ranging hens,
still settling-down honeybees
re-trusting their hive post-black-bear.

Calm settles through me,
at one with air, at peace.
Each hour I let go more; each
left I honor and release.

6 thoughts on “sunday morning, 10 a.m.

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