It’s a long slow progression into the day.
A balancing act,
like shifting our weight from one foot to the other,
to choose the thoughts we’ll follow.
It’s possible to see a thing two ways,
or a myriad more even,
sometimes it’s a weighing and discarding
of a thing that doesn’t further.
Sometimes its choosing what we see,
in the knowledge that it’s imprint matters.
So my ritual, in this long slow procession,
is to focus in,
at the hydrangeas unfolded as I slept,
and the wild blue iris,
scene changing with the roses
Perhaps to miss these things would be akin
to arriving at church after worship.
So, knowing how it all matters to the psyche,
my soul and I decide the thoughts the mind will follow.
And, then proceed,
we, as beggars starved for goodness,
collecting crumbs left by the angels on the road.
Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
‘To see we must forget the name of the thing we are looking at.’