shotgun house new orleansGently, the sunrise slides through the maples and over the tops of shotgun houses

onto my porch where I sit on red wicker, a coffee to my left

crickets sing under coreopsis,

an over-sized cicada whacks between shotgun houses.

The distant cooing between short bursts of cars en route to work

reminds me that morning comes

that the world is hurried, but nature is long suffering

that we are quick to impress, slow to watch the sun show off

that we have answers, but the earth has good news to share every morning and we miss it

But it is this: every single day, every breath

relies on the persistence and trustworthy laboring of the earth

and the song that patience sings





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One Response to Patience

  1. jlindercat says:

    “The Song That Patience Sings” – love it. The earth will ground us, if we but let it.

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