these tiny things

I heard the geese splash across the sky this morning

i saw the spider patient  in the center of her web
i watched the ant cross quietly along the window, meandering like a river through heavy silt
(as i sat and ate toast)

these are moments;  fleeting.    Ordinary.    captured by my eye,
while spirit whispers  to my hip hopping mind, gently imprinting their fossils  on my life breath

the ant hypnotized me-- transforming thoughts into captured words, as though the spider
spun her web to weave a tale


the geese call to winter coming
the familiar bugle trumpeting the change of season clearly

all of these moments,

my cat's crushed whiskers like a rumpled garment as she rises startled from a deep sleep

the vegetables left carefully by the neighboring farmer at the door
(bouquets of grand expansive leaves i've never seen before,)
the trill of the red winged black birds echo summer's ghost, as I slide the window closed

these primordial matters call me from my preoccupation with the internet  (with 'important work' and 'urgent priorities' )
within a few mere decades, modern life heralding massive rapid change and disconnection,
from these tiny treasured  calls  of  the  wild.

My inhale has forgotten them, but my exhale remembers well
and gently coaxes my flesh and senses to recall.

These tiny things reclaim my breath.



N. Hoeppner
c. 2018
soulbrush