the lonely moving on

Late August—
This is the plum season, the nights
blue and distended, the moon
hazed, this is the season of peaches

with their lush lobed bulbs
that glow in the dusk, apples
that drop and rot
sweetly, their brown skins veined as glands

No more the shrill voices
that cried Need Need
from the cold pond, bladed
and urgent as new grass

Now it is the crickets
that say Ripe Ripe
slurred in the darkness, while the plums

dripping on the lawn outside
our window, burst
with a sound like thick syrup
muffled and slow

The air is still
warm, flesh moves over
flesh, there is no

hurry

~Margaret Atwood

seemingly unrelated yet we all move on…

inquiry for today~ keep the height of your kindness in the middle…

centered in the muck

Here in the mid-Atlantic, the first hints of Autumn:

The slightest tinge of yellow in the foliage.
Groups of jumpy migrating geese clatter off at the slightest provocation.

The noise level out there seems to be increasing each day.
May you find the quiet voice of wisdom within.

~Jonathan Foust

2 thoughts on “the lonely moving on

  1. Yes nature is such a source of grace and wisdom. I did like the “keep the height of your kindness in the middle.” As I have aged I have found that is important wisdom. Most of my life, as an extravert who responds from my feelings, I tended to constantly scan the world around me for people needing material, emotional, or spiritual support. It’s hard to admit, that I can only help a few and that I need to even set limits with them, so I don’t make them dependent on me, because life and physical realities can cause me to not be able to continue and have to suddenly leave them high and dry. Very wise advice. Thanks.

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