Photo art by S. Auberle
Among other wonders of our lives, we are
alive with one another,
we walk here in the light of this unlikely
world that isn't ours for long.
Friend, the road is the destination…so they say, but my destination this
morning is a sunny meadow. The air is
crisp, a bit of frost lingers on leaves beneath my feet and a little north wind
teases at me. Across the field, and into
crow-talking woods for a while--I am warmer in here, out of the wind. The trail winds deeper through tall trees,
past old settlers discard heaps. The
crows and I converse for a while, then, wing to wing, they fly off into late autumn
blue, and I return to the dry grass meadow and its ancient apple trees. Here and there hangs a yellow or red globe, a
bright spot of color in the dead branches.
Garlands of bittersweet drape their bright orange against a cerulean
sky. Small, abandoned nests dot the
trees and a mud-dauber house hangs heavy in a branch, its swirls and patterns exquisitely fashioned. At my feet grasses are hollowed out, where
deer have bedded down in the night. A
dog barks somewhere, far off. I am just
another child grown old, yet my heart still beats, lungs take in air, legs
carry me over the land--what gifts--what blessings! The fourteenth century mystic, Meister
Eckhart, said if the only prayer you said
in your whole life was thank you, it would suffice. And though most days I question whether anyone
is listening, today I kneel in cold grass, whispering my two word love poem…over
and over and over.
It goes without saying, of course, that I am immensely grateful for many, many things in my life, most importantly--my tribe of loved ones. And grateful to be spending this beautiful holiday with some of them, so once again, the road beckons...Happy Thanksgiving to all...