Thoughts On a Winter Evening

When someone is behaving
in a way that unsettles
your spirit,
Be the Observer
of this human
and Imperfect Pageant.

They're likely doing the best they can.

For the things that rankle,
that perturb the soul,
the words that scald,
the salt poured into the wound:
become like a shrub, a bush,
green leaves 
held hopefully up
towards the sky,
which rains down
impartially
on all,
the way a barrage of words
comes at us
every day
from all directions.

Take only what you need.
Ignore the rest.

Let all you don't want to keep-
the wish-it-was, 
the if-only-it-could-be,
the might-have been's -
roll off the way
winter rain runs down salal,
trickling down the stem, 
along the branches,
off the rounded leaves
and away.


Be as the  gentle junco,
rain deflecting off  
its feathered little wings,
or the hummingbird,
who copes with rain 
by adjusting its body posture 
and working harder.*


For the water of your tears
nourishes the roots
that hold you steady.
Look into your dog's eyes,
your child's, your grandchild's,
babies at the mall,
and remember
how whole you felt,
how deep the magic
of Christmas,
when you were 
a child.

Grow accustomed to Wonder.
Magic is meant to be
our lasting state.


info from phys.org
image from flickr.com