A hodgepodge of things
Thrown together oftentimes haphazardly
But frequently perfectly matched
Like a hearty stew
Or a room full
Of disparate pieces all
Complimenting the other in
Delicate ways the old
And the new blending
Together like loves watercolors
Creating something uniquely stunning
Order rising from chaos
What is only real
Is what is seen
All else is fantasy
A conjuring of mind
Determining good and bad
In order to survive
In past and future
But simply being present
Living in the now
Requires only the eyes
Accepting what is seen
And declaring it beautiful
And with each season
Comes it’s own surprises
Awake aware abandon acquiesce
Bud blossom befall bedtime
Curious crave collapse close
Dawn desire descend die
On through the alphabet
No matter the season
Whether it be love
Or life or time
The seasons always march
To an invisible drum
Heard by no one
Yet felt by all
As the pond said
To the lad after
He remarked of its
Beauty I mirror only
What I myself see
As I have gotten older
I’ve become more aware
Of the little things
Having been bombarded by
The grand things of
Life I have sought
Refuge in the quiet
Things raindrops on eaves
The scratching of fall
Leaves and ant hills
That seem to erupt
Overnight through sidewalk cracks
The slower things like
Inch by delicate inch
Of freshly fallen snow
That crawls against windows
And plump caterpillars that
Wind and weave munching
Polka dots in green
On their way to
Emerging butterfly and oh
Yes love as called
Accepting it rather than
Seeking it there’s comfort
In the little slow
Things that simply show
Up for no other
Reason than being themselves
And I taking notice
