Hues on Blues

I am moved by brilliance - of mind, of color, of heart.  When I encounter the majesty of leaves, tarrying on their branches until they succumb to the trod of crunch and crush of little feet coming and going, my own heart swells and I pause.  No, I gasp.  The colors, the fragility, the fleetingness of the natural world humming beside us as we plod through walled lives, directed, channeled, focused.  How does one not become distracted by the free show that weaves itself in and out of our routinized existence?  

I have begun to stop for birds, for leaves, for slivers of a world that is just as focused, channeled and directed as our own; the theater of living, struggling, soaring, and dying is all just within our reach.  And yet, who can afford to slow the stride and slip inside the natural world of glitter and gray?  It takes such time to tarry and invite into our lives the splendor and the horror of nature that it is a wonder and luxury that I do i at all.  I am an addict, poking my nose, squinting my eyes, slowing my pace, dallying down just to feel its presence, just to be in IT for a moment of splendor and joy.  My world is bigger and richer for that moment.  

Sometimes I can even fly.