Sometimes life gets away from me. Like the winter sun, the central things I care about seem too distant to keep my focus. I start to pay attention to the cold, the ice, the blocked flow of my life. And yet, through the trees, the sun returns, to remind me of all the things that form the center of my life.
sunshine on cold days
casting long shadows on the snow
spilling star shine
My children are growing up so fast, growing apart, growing away, turning toward their own lives, a little more each day. But slowly, even more slowly than the earth circles the sun. As they turn their bright faces toward other people and other places, so I remember my center. The things I have always been drawn to do: to write, to contemplate, to think about the larger world.
I am like the woodpecker in the forest, pecking and pecking at life to see what nourishment I can find. The drum, drum, drum becomes one with my heartbeat, and the universe answers in the echoes.
noisy thoughts thrumming
snow showers from the pine branch
falls into silence
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Inspired by the Haībun challence by Ese and Managua, this week a Mongolian proverb, “Wise men talk about ideas, intellectuals about facts, and the ordinary man talks about what he eats.” My head is usually in the clouds, but today my head was turned by the sun.