It has been difficult to do anything lately.
Both my mind and my body are off balance.
Mr Flower lost his father in April and his mother in May.
They lived close-by. I must remind myself that their house is empty.
We stop by to mow the grass, feed the fish and water the plants.
but the house is empty.
There is much to be done now that no one is home.
My arm is in a sling. It hurts to type, or drive, or sleep.
I watched this heron this morning.
It flew through the breeze to land on this dead tree.
It perched perfectly on the thin dead branches.
It walked along the branch with perfect balance despite the rolling waves below.
Focused and graceful. Safe in its own coordination.
Poised on a precarious perch.
It is centered, not scattered
by sadness and pain.
I envy such balance, while I sit in my sling thinking of an empty house.