An invitation
to slowness.
That's what
this is.
Treelike
in stature and shade.
Enjoying the
sunshine for
a whole afternoon.
The vocation
of treeness.
Rooted trust
and branched
accommodation.
A patience.
Aches and echoes
of eternity
set within.
Belonging to the soil
and weather of a place.
Speaking the dialects
of quiet whispers
and birdsong.
Some think it
an invitation to
hurry.
To afternoons
of efficiency
and skill.
And often enough
my heart tells me
the same.
But the trees
remind me
of a different story.
An eternal song.
And I am not
the Singer.
And I can
enjoy the sunshine.
And the song.