SIXTH WEEK WEDNESDAY: CONFLICT & TENSION & BALANCE CONVERED ON HARMONY


The wind and the leaves and the

rake could not agree:

Is there to be one big pile?

many small piles? drifts?

Lines, compostedness, wheelbarrows?

some stuck in white hairs?

Some chewed by Little Dog?

some helping a chipmunk’s

Winter burrowing into the cold?

some batted high by Fluffy Cat?

If the rake wants one larg pile,

the leaves float away to breathe,

The wind insisting.

When the rake plans

Oh-so-neat rows of rusty piles,

Wind sings a new song,

Dancing and sweeping away rejoicing.

When the rake scores sunset crackling

Colors into lines, leaves slump

With sadness at this disguise

And the wind is their everfast friend.

When the rake lifts up

To the wheelbarrow a slaughtered

Mass of color,

The wind is filling the air with righteous

Indignation, well-toned chiming of the hour.

Then Chipmunk, Little Dog, and Fluffy Cat

all sit together on the leaf-encrusted rake,

Looking up spiritous in unison:

“See how well we befriend the leaves,the wind;

Let us now help you with the rake.

We will join in harmony, singing to the setting sun,

The new moom, the departed wind.”

All are now balanced with the required

Tension to maintin a posture

Of Harmony.

Conflict flown with the wind to

Another earth-side, another set of actors

On this stage of Being.

THESE VERSES TRULY CENTERED ME IN READINESS FOR TODAY!

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