Coastal marshes are gentle places,
nothing dramatic: soft sediment laid down,
tender grasses nodding in the breeze,
holding hands. Egrets wade,
turtles bask and fish lurk. It’s pretty quiet.
There are no stone bulwarks, but in a storm
the marsh protects the land
with an invisible strength.
Kindness is like that.
The apple tree by the roadside offers its gifts.
It asks nothing, makes no exchange,
fortifying whoever eats of its fruit.
Kindness is like that.
The scent of lilacs, that transgresses barbed wire,
the beauty of music you can hear even in riot gear,
an act of generosity defying all accounting,
a small seed that cracks sidewalks.
A little song that stays.
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Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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