Wednesday, July 30, 2014

nested like this


Busloads of children are arriving on the borders of the country I live in.

A wren’s nest
holds a few barely visible eggs
in the potted begonia on the porch.
They nestle in the cave she and he made
of moss and dry field grasses.

Deep inside the nest of myself
is a fullness
That holds the complexity of life.

Grace takes my mind aside
Enveloping it completely in her nest.

Home.
Like this.

Trusting the nest maker within.
To celebrate.
To care for.
To create and express.
To share in the wonder of all conditions.

Like this.

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