Receiving Renewal

Last week Al and I took advantage of a day off for a 24 hour get-away.  I feared I was bringing along my stress and would not get out from under its effect. The poem below chronicles the gift of renewal in the midst of nature. It speaks of our "work" to receive the abundance. Here's to your moments of joy and expanse!

Remedy

Silent at the start

of our get-away, I keep

 private my low-grade grief,

vague anxiety, and fatigue 

from too much work, 

activity, and noise,

 noise that echoes endlessly.

My imagination turns dark

stained  from the lightless news

in the Bremerton Sun:  

theft, abuse, and murders.

I hug my grandbabies goodby

regret that I am numb

to their goodness.

“I really need a walk” I say

after some miles traveled.

We consider the omen good

when we find a quiet beach.

At first I walk fast hungry

for the salt air and calm

of the waters of Sequim Bay,

the expanse of lagoon and marsh;

then, I slow beginning to trust my soul.

It knows the remedy - the task, 

the prayer, the gratitude, the work,

the moment’s holiest endeavor.

It knows to see and hear

the abundance offered.

We walk and see great blue herons

rise with grace in their effort.

Brandt soothe with throaty calls.

 White bellies float beneath black wings

above dark water - a giant flock

of sleek lined hulls bob

as in a parade of elegant ships.

I see them. I hear them. And now  

 wonder sidles beside my stress

and I sense …I think…

a suggestion of joy.

I tell God and myself I must remember

 to look, and listen, and feel 

during the hours remaining,

 and I do:

a coyote shyly runs across our path,

a hawk reveals the perfection

of her curled wing.  Ocean rollers

heave themselves on sands below

a cliff and I hear it suck

the pebbles back sounding like

the gasp for air after a great laugh.

        

A man and three kids walk by.

The youngest girl wears a cape,

carries a Jedi sword.  The boy whacks

at the fence with a beach stick;

his sister jumps. I see his mouth say,

 “I’m sorry.” I feel their goodness. 

On the misty horizon

I see ships moving slow and small.

I hear the silence expand as if they

carry off my anxiety and noise. 

On the way home we travel

in a deep silence. I see how

the crane operator placed 

giant boulders on stumps

 in the acres of clear cut.

 I feel the humor and smile.

 I imagine playing

with toy steam shovels

and think of my grandchildren

with joy.