Garden Variey Wisdom
Inspiration Collections Blog Friends Yard Yetis
Yellow Wellies

Wednesday, March 9, 2016

The Circle Series Meanders On

I have written in the past of my tree gazing in search of quiet contentment and strength. However, one fine afternoon, I fell in love with the solitary leaf swaying in the wind, exactly opposite the movement of its fellow companions. 

Humming perhaps a tune only it could hear, one so soul stirring that it pulsed and waved and fluttered, unaware of the glaring stares from surrounding foliage.

To quote myself from February 2014:

In one direction. 
In unison.
All but one. 
One leaf did not lean. 

One leaf on a low branch even with my stare, fluttered like a hummingbird's wings. Vibrated. As if tuned to a different key, singing like a diva, like that one voice in a children's choir that floats above the chorus, in perfect harmony, separated by a decibel. 

Notice me.

Same breeze. Same dynamic. Same melody.

A different rhythm. 

That little green wiggling machine shimmied and shook. 

Jazz hands. 

I swear you could see all the other leaves roll their eyes,
casting down aspersions, 
or whatever leaves do when one of their own gets caught acting out. 

No matter. 
The little leaf never leaned in unison.
Right or left. 
It simply scampered to the tune it heard playing.
Every single time. 

So it goes in the Circle Series.

There is nothing wrong in a Meander. 

Veering off course. 
Moving in a new direction, singing a different tune, 
letting the wind toss you about in a frenzy that builds from within. 

Perhaps this is Nature’s way of reminding us that there are many paths on which to make this Circular Journey, and not all signs and signals, while popular with the crowd, are those we should choose. 

A Meander is indeed merely an exercise in risk taking, listening to our own voice, and if nothing else, a moment of playfulness, in a very serious world. 

A Meander

When answers evade you
take a stroll
go on a journey
for your soul.
See the tiny tendrils
of nature’s flowers,
like a lock of hair
out of place, 
gently sway,
to their inner rhythm,
Shades of color softly
tall and short, 
wide and slim, 
imperfectly perfect.
Drift awhile
Move aimlessly
Wind and weave
You will find your way back

Adirondack Chairs