This morning was dusty, with pollen in every sunbeam. New, pale, lime green leaves were vibrating, not just with the breeze, but with birds doing aerobics in the branches. A goldfinch shook its wings out against a cluster of oak buds, revealing its camouflage. The cherry tree that I believed would hardly blossom this spring exhaled and dropped a shower of pale petals that brushed my arm before they settled onto the new grass rising in emerald spires. In those ten seconds, all the activity before my eyes mirrored earthquakes, volcanoes, cries for life and loss, tides and floods: All one living organism we limit by saying "I."
Why believe we are in solitude,
unless "alone" refers to the moment we realize that
all are ONE with everything that
happens in this moment?
Suns rise dense with pollen,
trees vibrate from finches shaking out wings it dusted,
camouflaged in the bright green of unformed leaves,
setting off sneezes of children bounded by headphones,
with no plan for any step but the dub of their earbud.
Seed stuff covers me as ash pours from volcanoes in
Puebla, Vanuatu, Italy, Tanzania, Guatemala, Kamchatka, Hawaii:
shaken from the rim of fire collapsing homes and
breaking hearts from Fukumoto to Ecuador, flooding Houston,
covering the Rockies with snow.
Breathe.
Robins are pulling life from the leaves that fell a moment ago, in September.
Look.
Blossoms drift across a sunbeam, pale pinks fade to white on emerald grass.
Listen.
Caw trill, coo, chirp-- remind dinosaurs to fuel my commute from this instant.
Alone in nature?
Sol, I, too, die and
Live with You and you.
One Earth.
One Life.
One Now.
DonnaMarie Fekete, 19 April 2016
Why believe we are in solitude,
unless "alone" refers to the moment we realize that
all are ONE with everything that
happens in this moment?
Suns rise dense with pollen,
trees vibrate from finches shaking out wings it dusted,
camouflaged in the bright green of unformed leaves,
setting off sneezes of children bounded by headphones,
with no plan for any step but the dub of their earbud.
Seed stuff covers me as ash pours from volcanoes in
Puebla, Vanuatu, Italy, Tanzania, Guatemala, Kamchatka, Hawaii:
shaken from the rim of fire collapsing homes and
breaking hearts from Fukumoto to Ecuador, flooding Houston,
covering the Rockies with snow.
Breathe.
Robins are pulling life from the leaves that fell a moment ago, in September.
Look.
Blossoms drift across a sunbeam, pale pinks fade to white on emerald grass.
Listen.
Caw trill, coo, chirp-- remind dinosaurs to fuel my commute from this instant.
Alone in nature?
Sol, I, too, die and
Live with You and you.
One Earth.
One Life.
One Now.
DonnaMarie Fekete, 19 April 2016