For the next 52 weeks, I will post one poem a week. A full year of poems. Read and enjoy my truth and as always, I hope that it touches some truth in you.
Still
The morning is still
the clouds
stay in place
unruffled
by wind
the leaves
the flowers
bloom
still
the world spins
but we don’t feel it
instead we stand
still
on the beach
in our house
sensing
the subtle
movements
so small
infinitesimal
yet
they accumulate
one and then another
until
the image
shifts
and still
wavers
a mirage
we see
something else
the clouds
have drifted
the sun risen
the color
returned to the day
we are still
yet
it all moves
whether we want it to
or not
children grow
older
leave home
the moon
the earth
the years turn
we are a little
greyer
wiser
wrinkles
formed on surfaces
cracks and fissures
in the earth
micromovements
until a big
earth shaking
quake
and we are
reminded
that stillness
is constant
in a dance
with change
and we are
standing
still on a
moving planet
watching the years turn
still.