Those birds ask nothing,
nor
demand we listen!
But
the flowers—pink, yellow, and open—
may
be feeding off their sound! And that dazzling light
on
the water this morning
strikes me as tiny diamond fish
jumping.
When
I was young, I’d often feel fearful, jumpy
inside, and usually over nothing!
But
I was always more confident in the morning
so
sat up straight at my wooden desk, listening
to
the teacher, and was not distracted by light
until a seductive shadow beckoned if the transom
opened.
Life
can flatten joy. When older, it may take a jolt to open
our
ears to song, or a door slamming shut to make us jump –
unless somewhere deep inside we sense a soft
light
with
rays like a humming voice, asking nothing
but
that we pull the curtain on all that din and simply listen
to
the sea grasses singing, “It’s morning!”
But
why take the leap into “then,” when this morning
holds a delicate power that may open
our
eyes and hearts; birds nudging us to listen
to
their love-sounds! I, for one, jump
out
of my normal DO routine, and nothing
can
make me stray from their musical light!
Dark-gray and a harsh voice saying, "Turn off that
light
and
not another word until morning!"
Of
course, I fought back with more than nothing,
letting chill air into the room, windows wide
open!
That
rush of bitter wind always made me jump
out
of bed because I simply refused to
listen.
Now,
if you stay with me all night, dear child, listening
to
the cricket-rhythms pulsing like light,
you
can almost feel green faeries jumping
through those quavering leaves until morning.
We’ll just leave this little window open
to
see if we can catch a glimpse of their magical nothing.
Will
you just try to listen this morning,
then
open your heart to that soft light?
It’s
like jumping from nothing—into grace.
Kay
Weeks 5.13.12
With thanks to Melody Gough, Wally Shugg, and Mary Berglund for reading and commenting in earlier drafts.
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