You have traveled too fast over fall ground;

Now your soul has come to take you back.

Take refuge in your senses, open up

To all the small miracles you rushed through.

Become inclined to watch the way of rain

When it falls slow and free.

Imitate the habit of twilight,

Taking time to open the well of color

That fostered the brightness of day.

Draw alongside the silence of stone

Until its calmness can claim you.

            –John O’Donohue

Opening reading chosen and read by Amy W.

Today’s walk invited me to claim the silence of time in-between.  Not a wintry morning with frost, yet biting wind to join the sunshine.  Not a spring morning of popping blooms or eager birdsong, yet the garden’s produce was making a strong start.  The color surrounding me was either green or beige.  Resurrection fern was happy happy happy after the rain; grasses, straw-colored and surrendered.  The morning walk slowed my steps, quieted my mind, opened me to see what was before me—without judgment of what else could be but wasn’t.  I didn’t rush the joy.

Photo and reflection by Amy W.