2021-10-06T19:15:51-07:00June 26th, 2020|Musings on life|

Painted rocks

There is a woman on the island
who paints rocks
with such tender detail,
leaving them perched on logs
and tucked in holes in trees
so that everyone stops
to delight more closely
in each one.

I wondered today,
if there is a God,
does she get frustrated,
wondering why we don’t
slow down
like this
for every fern and face,
for the exquisite symmetry of a feather?

Why we don’t notice
all the generous things
she leaves lying around,
trying over and over
to make us

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