Evening, cooler than in past days.
The sky is quiet, polished purple,
thickening with darkness,
gently turning to octopus ink.
A stand of trees, black against the horizon,
shuffles vaguely, then stills.
An eyelash of moon hovers over the horizon.
It seems to be looking at you.
Stars start humming their tiny, tinny tunes.
The earth is not just there, but holding you up.
With each breath the evening air greets you,
enters you, becomes you, and leaves in peace.
A single bird note sounds, not a song, just a note,
like one star. Then silence.
In that enfolding space,
in the beckoning of the stillness,
something in you stands up
and speaks.
And the earth and the trees and the sky
and the very stars hear,
and will remember forever.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light www.unfoldinglight.net
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