There it is, the way to close the book.
I’ll sit in my hut with the fire burning,
light to shine out on the wintry world.
My heart is here,
and you are welcome.
I will write my name on a stone,
and drop it into the pond
where the golden carp is waiting.
I will whisper it into the feathers
of the rusty screech owl
who huddles in the hollow of the sycamore.
I will of course tell the toad
who watches from her litter of leaves.
My heart, I think I said, is here,
and yours is welcome in this circle.
My friend Sarah and I have been talking about Gratitude Lists, and the value of changing up the themes of the items. Some days it takes an effort of will not to just make a list of five of the wing-people I have seen and heard from that day.
1. The Pileated Woodpecker who called an announcement of his presence and then rowed through the sky across the hollow this afternoon.
2. Phoebe has returned to the hollow, calling his name insistently from the walnut tree.
3. Driving the tractor. I love to drive the tractor.
4. Delightful surprise of friends stopping in for a visit this afternoon.
5. Moving forward, pushing through.
May we walk in beauty.