Finding the Heart
She stood on stones in the creek crying
Someone asked why are there tears in all this beauty?
because the creek flows
the raven croaks
the wind sings to my heart.
This flesh that grew around my spirit
wants to dance in the rain
cry in the sun
roll in grass
quiver with aspens.
Why is this?
my spirit measures travel in and out of itself
and doesn’t count the miles
or wonder why.
It only knows it must travel.
Rain tells her
Stop managing your tears,
they are the way you find your heart.
©photo and poem by caf
A Day Like This
Some days are made for gazing
long into the distance
where dusty words
are excused from stale thoughts
as your body wears a rut into a comfortable chair
by a big window overlooking a field or forest.
Some days are for ruminating, wondering
about nothing much at all
but who’s coming up the road
and why the lilacs are budding so soon
while dishes soak in the sink
and floors beg for a sweeping.
Some days never rise
but lie napping by a snoring dog
who barks between snorts
while the leash lies idle
and coat sleeves remain empty.
If such a day should come to you
tend to it as you would a sleeping child
let it relax, keep it safe
treasure it and check on it often
for such days are when your soul grows
your life’s poetry.
© photo and poem by caf