Touching into the Soft Round of the Sun…

Sitting outside by the old apple tree.

Shakin’ this wooden rattle ’til my mind goes blank and I’m carried away in it all.

The small brown finches with their fast-footed free-form ecstatic dance.

The easy sway of silver maples overhead.

Cows bawling low and slow off in the valley.

My thumb caresses into the soft worn rabbit fur, holding this stick attached to a small pouch filled with seed.

Click. Click.

Clickity click.

Shck. Shhhhck.

Shhckty. Shck Shck.

And I’m allofasudden transported outta’ the brain that has me planning and guessing and worried about what’s ta’ come and into this hazy space where my dreams touch into the soft round of the sun.

Listening to alla’ creation rise into this day.

Hearing my Granny’s laughter ring through the hedge.

A deep tug in my belly like a big ol’ eddy in the river.

This ache in my bones from a welcomed chill whipped in from the past to dance all around me.

Just in time for our morning concert. Together moving our hides in this here spring.

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