this day, a miracle

gary's geraniums

today, while walking around the pond
my vision, i realized, was too much downwardly focused;
this business of earth, how we need to maintain
our ground, upon a spinning globe, which never rests

firmly, yet gently-- i took my own hand, to help lift
my eyes to see such beauty, i could hardly contain
the simple orange beauty of geraniums in bloom
within a  wooden window box, on the south side

of the grist mill's cottage-where in summer
kids can take arts and crafts, and dream
of whatever a kid dreams in summer
to last throughout the school year grind

the geranium flowering in december-
a miracle of simplicity, caused my breath
to slow, and my sneakered feet to suspend
judgement of this day being anything less
than the miracle it was created for

then i walked some more, to gaze
upon the stone bridge, pond on left
and cascading waterfall to my right
eyes caught the eyes of the great blue

heron, perched wise one on a log
beneath the bridge, so close to where i stood
we were practically breathing the same air

the more i looked at my wise bird friend,
the less i did stare, as we were both
becoming lighter than air, without leaving

the ground; the flight was temporary,
but invigorated spirit's thread connecting
me to him, and him to me--
something gentle, palpable, holy

i sang some oms to the tune
of mary had a little lamb-
he turned his head once,
and then back to the pond's center

i swear he knew-- i was trying
to get his attention,
but with respect to him,
let him be in his element

it was a meeting of spirit,
soft as silk-
the caress of his gaze
haunts me as i write

knowing, he, in his own way
over sushi and moonrise dinner
would register the simple,
divine meeting of me and him-
and smile his classic heron grin

i am not invested in your believing;
this day wrung out my own disbelief
of anything miraculous happening--
as this day was truly a miracle


Kate Lamberg
12/8/11

great blue heron by the pond