the .moon's. quiet. daughter


h.o.m.e ............s.a.r.a.h...e.l.w.e.l.l ............ e.l.s.e.w.h.e.r.e .............s.e.e.d.s...&...s.t.a.r.s ............d r e a m i n g...t.a.l.e.s





April 23, 2017

wild peace

 


It is quiet here today, the uptight kind of quiet you get in suburbia - the reminder that everyone else is somewhere else, and you are alone. I would run away to the woods if I could, to the meadows and the hills, where quiet lies easy, languid, on the landscape, and aloneness feels like refreshment. At home, to be semi-invalid seems wasteful, and the story of it is just sad. But there is no shame in resting in the countryside, watching clouds go by and dreaming, like a gentle kitchen maid or princess in some old tale. When we get closer to nature, we become less encumbered with shoulds and oughts, and can simply be what we need to be.




the oak tree, hearing foresters,
hid its heart in a girl
with shy brown eyes, quiet feet,
where only the most gentle of men
would be able to find it


painting by ann macbeth

4 comments:

  1. I hope you feel better. Lovely fragment from your poem or story at the end. xoxo Su

    ReplyDelete
  2. rest and dreaming are good things...love that illustration at the top!

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  3. lovely this:
    the oak tree, hearing foresters,
    hid its heart in a girl
    with shy brown eyes, quiet feet,
    where only the most gentle of men
    would be able to find it

    ReplyDelete
  4. Yes, I walk with an open heart in the nature, and upon my return to suburbia, I am able to cope just a little easier, with more energy, and be who I need to be. Thank you, your words always make complete sense to me.

    ReplyDelete