Wednesday, October 13, 2010
in these clear, beautiful mornings-
mornings that hint of faint perfume
and night-chilled air...
Mornings when the sky opens up
like melted sherbet
and the day touches your skin
like love's electricity...
these days are the saddest.
Perhaps it is because we are small.
Because no matter how hard we try-
we cannot embrace it all.
And our sadness comes from knowing
the day can only be remembered-
but never saved...
We are soon painfully aware
that pieces of moments drip from our grasp
as the sun slides slowly across the sky
and falls behind the trees again.
I think these wide, autumn days
are the saddest days.
Days when we remember hands we held,
and laughter we shared,
and familiar footsteps
that once trod beside our own.
We breathe in the fear of our own mortality.
We mourn things and people and places
that whiz by like a train that never returns.
in these early hours of sunrise-
I think of my mother...
and try to imagine her sharing my walk
and smiling over black coffee
and enjoying yesterdays donuts.
What would she have me save?
The time with timid birds
and whistles of wind in the pine trees?
Or the incessant flow of ordinary things
and monotonous responsibility
that pulls me off course-
like a ship headed for some futile beach?
the most beautiful days are the saddest-
because they seep into our souls
like liquid photographs-
like the clear, sweet syrup of reality.
even when we are feeling the sun on our faces
and we smell the earthy odor of fruitless fields
and we touch the petals of fading flowers-
we know somewhere deep inside
that this will not last.
We are helpless in our attempts
to make the wonders of the world stand still.
I do not know the way to a long life,
but I do know the way to a good life.
Although we cannot save it-
we can relish it
and revel in it
and take notice of its miracles.
And it starts by watching the sunrise
and listening to the birds sing
and inhaling each dancing drop of heavenly air.
Thank you, God.
For this beautiful day...