This body is a beast running through the fallen leaves, through the rich green of the forest. Climbing. Twisting. Clawing. Hunting. The nearby river makes animal noises, grunts, snarls, and feeds the forest from the cold blue, the icy true. Tonight, no moon. Just the noises of the river, the whisper of the windy leaves in the moving darkness, twigs snapping beneath small paws. Sleeping lightly in the strong arms of the wild.
Things that are right.
The perfect quiet before the dawn,
Not quite silence, but delicious
And full of peace.
Outside, cool air that feels clean
And braces the cheeks,
But doesn’t cut through the soft, warm robe.
Coffee, black and strong,
The lovely smell of it, the rich taste.
The reading chair, waiting patiently
For me to tackle some morning reading,
Two or three good books sitting there,
Each will have a turn.
My wife’s quick smile before she leaves,
As beautiful now as ever.
No. Even more so.
Reading. Meditation. A little more coffee.
All of this still in my pajamas, robe, and slippers.
A few easy hours pass.
Growing old, it isn’t so bad
Kindness in words creates confidence. Kindness in thinking creates profoundness. Kindness in giving creates love.
To praise others for their virtues can but encourage one's own efforts.