No Need to Be Strong

I spot litter and leaves on the pavement in town. Once, I was blessed to find a ring, bent down and put it on my finger. 

When I don't want to think, I listen. Noise is good, silence shows up your breath, and one way or another, you drop back into your bones.

Talking is good too, if your vocal cords aren't on rest after much shouting or in the presence of magnificence. 

It's there, you see it in the blossoming leaves and flowers, you hear it in the bird's twitter you drink in the middle of the night. 

Even when the chips are down, mid-fight or mid-deluge, the light enfolds you.

Or when someone notices that you are off colour or when someone picks up the phone to check in. 

And in the little birds, in the hot ocean, in the desert, at the supermarket down the road where you mostly talk about the weather or the kids.