T I M E / L I F E

T I M E / L I F E

I remember when I became Ten,
two digits instead of one.
The cake glittered with candles
I filled my lungs and blew them all out.

Making a wish to become hundred
and wear a big white hand crocheted shawl.

Perhaps I would need help to blow the candles out.

Then there was sixteen and twenty-one
not to forget the growing in between and forth.
As time flowed by, I felt sometimes it stood still
at others it skipped like a brook.

Plans fell through for some events,
replaced by a new surprise.
Life just is, Is.
Flying high or sinking low.

A journey of miraculous dimensions.

on Earth, through Cosmos it dances.
Magic beyond belief.

© miriam ivarson

Walking in the Wood

 

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Walking in the Wood

Walking in the wood this morning
as the sun painted the sky,
I looked, listened to
Life being reborn.

Buds were bursting and clapping hands,
little timpani filling the air.
The reeds around the pond would not be outdone,

they rustled delighted
Brushes on drums.

Birds, I love them, took centre stage
with a full choir singing praise;
to life, to heavens, to all.

Sheer joy.

I saw ants building nests,
very busy they were.
Even wasps droned drunkenly around
finding a flower or two.

I sat down on a stone and dare swear,
the air did also sing
as it gently nourished my skin.

© miriam ivarson