BREATHING

 

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Mr Owl above, wisely tells me that we teach best what we need to learn.
An old adage I tell him but admit I don’t always listen. Hmm …

The first and most spontaneous gift at birth is the breath.
Yet, we often manage to mess even this up. Makes me both laugh and cry,
are we both too clever and too ignorant?

Either way, this little poem presented itself and perhaps I am not the only one
to recognise this phenomenon of breathing.

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BREATHING

to the rhythm of the waves,
To the sounds of strong winds
through the forests and glades;
The sighing of reeds by the lake.

Letting breath flow deeply and easily
in harmony with them,
Replenishing body and mind.

Our lives begin on Earth with the first breath,
it ends with the last;
Thus follows that we should nourish and fill
this precious vessel, this gift,

With oxygen freely supplied from each tree,
from all living nature.

So walk straight, fill the lungs
make every cell sing,
with the fervour of a little bird;

At night let easy cadency sustain.

Our heartbeats will slow, to the pulse
of a two stroke diesel;
As it propels the skiff at sea.

All it takes is to be,
in tune with the Whole.

c/ miriam ivarson

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Lattice work against the Sky

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Lattice work against the Sky     

Against deep blue sky,
little gold coloured leaves
hang on, shivering in the wind.
Beauty in all seasons
is the Birch.

In the morning sun 
I saw purple blue Clematis,
Turned to shining,
golden, feathery balls.
Their beauty struck my heart.

Many things turn to beauty in death,
hadn’t much noticed before.
Butterfly clams on a warm strand
in life so little, so fast,

turn to glowing butterflies
when they die.

So it is that the Birch,
from tender gold/green
Through the seasons delight.

Naked again in the autumn wind,
Reveal beauty so sheer.

Unadorned.

© miriam ivarson

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