We wake to analyze the shuttered light, peering through the gloom,
And listen for the telltale signs: rustling leaves? splattering rain?
Our blanket moods grown heavy with the wait.
But this new day is quietly bright and smells of sunlight.
A sky of bosomy clouds, backed with the azure blue of our longing,
Lifts the shadows hanging over us to bring new hope –
Lost parts of us begin to stir, eager for their chance to shine.
Spring heat enlivens the air, that our slow bodies crave,
Motivating our bones and quickening our blood.
It is the first day of summer and the time of equinox,
New life, spring juice, joy and celebration.
Terraced olives stand sentinel while the land dries out.
Indifferent to flood or drought, to mud or dust.
Plants will soon race to flower and bees will buzz;
But for now we gladly greet the sun and know its vital force.
Sun or rain, this is a sacred place where nature rules
and human feelings change with every kind of sky,
While deeper down our spirit waits – with endless patience,
Under the ‘disowned’ blanket we weave to cover it.
We need the sun inside to reach an inner light,
But how can we speak of this, the unknowable source?
That is our truth and yet goes far beyond
The confines of our small familiar stage.
And so words fail to say what I can barely sense
In silence, in nature, in touch with the beloved.
Where all is one and now is all – come rain or shine.
The faintest knowing I was born with, lives in the beauty here.