This morning I sat
with the black cat on my lap
and breathed the first breaths
of October.
The sky is gray-white and sunless,
filled with crowcall
and the sharp cries of hawk.
If I squint,
I can almost see steam lifting
from a cauldron in the forest
and smell change drifting
through the air.
I am looking at the shards
of the year,
some new-broken,
some re-collected,
some shining with possibility,
and I feel the call,
the urge,
the promise,
to tip them all into that bubbling vat
and see what She will
steep me into next.
We are invited each day
into newness,
into breathing the very breath
of the World Spirit herself.
We are invited into presence,
into the commonplace magic
that keeps the world turning
and our hearts beating.
Here we are in the temple
of the ordinary,
watching the sky.
May we settle into our bones
and feel our pulse in our wrists.
May we accept the invitation
to sit with joy
and create our lives.
-
Molly, That poem is magical in its own right, and awesome. Thanks for sharing! -
thank you! I appreciate your comments!
swing, parties to attend and plan, new products to develop for our shop, old requests waiting for our attention. But, the leaves will only be this color for a moment. The air will only be this sweet and pleasant for a moment. The sun will only glint across the cedar branches in this way that brings my soul to life right now, the colors of the day so sharp and vivid, clear and bright to my eyes, that it is almost like stepping into another reality. We have only this moment to join hands and slip off into the woods beneath the early morning sun, stepping past pools of slowly dripping water, over sharp and uncertain stones, soft green moss, and carpets of fallen leaves. It is only this moment in which we will hear the hawk's cry ring out across the trees. Only now in which we will turn over leaves and discover shining mushrooms, gleaming in the October sun.
