Good Morning!

I am rested.  I am rest.  

Perhaps it is something that I now notice when I am tired, or perhaps I become more tired than I used to.   I'm glad I can catch fatigue and not try to push on through.  I suppose it is an accomplishment that I can notice and say I am tired.

Yesterday was a magical day.  No wonder I was speechless and in need of rest.  Perhaps that is why in fairy tales, there is sometimes a need for a long sleep.   When I was sitting inside the redwood tree, I felt I was being rocked in a stage coach.  It was quite something.

This is my morning poem.

Spring Housecleaning

 

On a day of silent wings, jets and gulls,

seventeen pelicans gather in a V.

 

The ocean offers waves to me,

like cookies with tea.

 

I enter a living redwood tree, opened to an inner pyramid by fire,

sit on a root with a friend. She faces one way and I the other. 

 

We share a stage coach, watch the passing landscape,

from the vantage point of a tree.

 

Only the stream speaks.  Each poppy is a broom.

Buttercups shine.  Cells gleam.