Sometimes by David Whyte
Sometimes
if you move carefully
through the forest,
breathing
like the ones
in the old stories,
who could cross
a shimmering bed of leaves
without a sound,
you come to a place
whose only task
is to trouble you
with tiny
but frightening requests,
conceived out of nowhere
but in this place
beginning to lead everywhere.
Requests to stop what
you are doing right now,
and
to stop what you
are becoming
while you do it,
questions
that can make
or unmake
a life,
questions
that have patiently
waited for you,
questions
that have no right
to go away.
— opening poem chosen and read by Bonnie L.
I walked down Magnolia Allee with the loud sound of a leaf blower penetrating the peace. I almost turned around but felt that I should walk in to the noise and chaos. Shortly thereafter, the noise ended and delicious silence settled in.
Newly dropped acorns were everywhere this morning… a sign of new life and rebirth.
One of my favorite pieces of sculpture at Brookgreen reminded me to step with grace in to my new life chapter… embracing the unknown with curiosity and open heartedness.
— Photos and reflections by Nancy L.
walkinginwonderhcfm 
Hello Nancy,
Thank you so much for this blog posting. I love it. Did you know you were taking a picture of a tree angel? Her tree bark wings carefully sculpted, outstretched in her dance of earthly joy? Her evergreen leaf gown leads down to its woody skirt, kicked up by heavenly legs. She patiently holds that step, that we might better see. That we might join in. But what is that, that the rests on her breast? Her drum? A contented owl, sleeping after a busy night?
You can’t know how David Whyte’s poem was a perfectly timed gift for someone I love. Heaven-picked, heaven sent. Now shared again.
Such wonder in your walking! I thank you.
From your armchair companion who knows you more than you can imagine! Maureen Davison
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