I have a mountain of books to read
Books are scattered everywhere in the house
I will call and ask you where to start reading
The garage is full of non-essentials
My hours need occupants
On most days I walk in the neighborhood.
Now is the time that I should go deeper in my learning
Not my usual ordinary way to please myself.
It’s sad to realize it takes a pandemic to wake me up.
Time is emptying like food on the shelves.
I walked farther today than the previous days: three miles. I crossed Napa River on an elevated bridge and connected to the river trail, to the downtown then returned home on another street.
It was 65 degrees, sunny with a cool breeze. I met along the way other walkers and cyclists. We all practiced the safe distancing. There colorful flowers and plants and art.
I stopped a lot to take photos.
The sun descends on my shoulders
I’m constantly washing my hands to drive the virus away
We are six feet apart, a distance of safety
We can still look at each other’s eyes
Without words love flows in invisible connections
The fresh thought of wanting
The eagerness of eating an ice cream cone
Hastens arrival of summer
As if it can be done by magical gestures
I’m thinking of supernatural, the miraculous.
I will fold my hands
And sit still, in silence.
There are those extraordinary hours
When you feel the approach of the beautiful
The moments when imagination is at its sharpest
When you see only clarity
Awe can be incomprehensible.
The ice cream is melting
The buds remain buried under the snow
I’m running very fast to catch reality
And tie it down.
Where are you?
After correction of errors, a shift in imagination
The weight lifted lighten the wings for wider spaces
The stories written with new desire for understanding
Seeing and describing reality.
The moments of waiting before the unfolding
Is utter loneliness.
The objects of desire are well illustrated
Ushered in the open air.
We forget defeats, remember victories
The painful ones, the hardest ones
Written in the bones, carried in the tears
We smile and say, why not.
The art of fresh approach, act of integration
The next story of enchantment we will write
As if we are thinking of immortality
We are offering our homage and gratitude.
Search and work
Search the depths of your life experience
for revelations of the sacred
Maybe they are ordinary
Maybe they are unnoticed
God is always working for us to find him
Is he beyond my comprehension?
I have to observe silence and be attentive.
With my human frailty I have to work harder
Not only in prayer but in faith
Selfishness and pride in spiritual ventures of disguises
Are difficult to discard without grace.
It’s a feast to plant and to harvest
With divine help.
At the end of day
I wipe sweat on my forehead
Thanking the Lord for the work done.
Length of Stay
There is no more boredom or uneven walk on the hiking trail
No more mere acorns and colored pebbles from the riverbed
A new day of catastrophe’s widening reach
Wearing a mask wherever one goes
Suspicion of catching the virus when traveling, talking with friends and strangers
Living in narrow corridors
A suffocating feeling, counting the hours
Waiting when the end come?
With fear of being left alone and contagious
Today I walk to the river
There is a pink breasted bird flying from one branch to another, from one tree to another tree
Tweeting and communicating in a high pitch bird talk
I see a fisherman attending to his line
The fish has not touched any of his baits
But living is not all about intensity and patience
Not all about uncertainties and business hours
Life is also about the every day simplicity: corn on the cob and opening an umbrella during the rain,
A good book, kind thoughts, and Beethoven
And kissing you goodnight.
You try to frame your beginnings and journey
Demolishing and picking up the ruins
Planting roots, building a ladder with vision of a summit,
A tapestry of new colors and threads
Then you see a swan rising from the waters
The white wings spreading wide as if without effort
The awe encompasses all you have learned
Simple, precise and complete
Forever transforming your soul.
The Distraction
The days pass like rain falling between your fingers
You are unaware the mountain’s summit disappears, river dries up
You worry yourself about deadlines and profits
Perception narrows, words evaporate between us
The time passes the definitive, irreversible point
Your distraction is being too focused
Like a robot whose full devotion is to vacuum the living room.
At The River
The lines are cast
The fish are not biting
A fisherman wonders why
I don’t know
From a distance in the walking path
Two walkers are approaching
Ask them the question when they arrive.
The base of a tree is surrounded by stones
The other trees are not.
It’s winter even in a tiny vineyard
Meantime I’m walking back home
I’m thinking what I will have for lunch
Will xfinity know?
edgarone2