I look upon the water
listening to
longing insect calls.
The sunset’s glint
reflected across
the mirrored surface
before me,
and I consider the trees
lending their shade,
stories embedded
within each growth ring.

Us humans are hurried
in our short years,
but the deep roots
of those trees
tell tales
through the centuries
of new ideas
and political debates –
their branches
reaching skyward
forever growing,
their only goal
to keep on,
something we

We could learn
so much if we
slowed down
to watch the ripples
formed by a fish
catching dinner
grow over
the water,
breaking up
images of clouds
drifting along the sky,
or the way the
dragonfly doesn’t
stop mid-flight
to see himself
atop the equisetum –
there’s no time
for vanity.

We could learn
so much if we
the way the
world turns
at sunset
and trees
and hillsides
all stretched
out before us,
showing us
up close
don’t always fit
into the palm
of your hand.