Tuesday, January 3, 2012

The Winter Wren
















Image: winter wren by John James Audubon


How can a little brown bird flit
across your path,
yet remain perched as a precious haunt
in your psyche for days?

The winter wren is a secret
come out from the thick greenbrier
to look you in the eye
and let you know only
that it has suddenly revealed
itself in the brisk, dancing
air.

What secret?

This bird took no measure
to say.

How often aspects of us
show up without announcement
or explanation,

flitting into our awareness
with the hope that we will
See.

We are more mystery to
ourselves than we know.

The sky can’t decide
on blue or gray,
and the clouds are directionally
fickle

as I ponder the winter wren
hop-skipping through
my dense woodland.

“What is it you want of me?”
I ask.

“It’s a secret,”
is the only reply.

And this is what I concluded:

I can love what I do not know.

Countless bodies are breathing 
in windswept thickets
around me, and without me 
knowing of them,
or them of me,
we are entwined and my heart holds
inexplicable space for them.

What is yet unrevealed of me, too,
is lovable.

© 2012-2014/Jamie K. Reaser
Published in "Sacred Reciprocity: Courting the Beloved in Everyday Life" (www.hiraethpress.com)

(Feel free to share. Poetry is meant to move.)

2 comments:

  1. Ah, lovely. The holy Wren's gifts continue on, and travel far through your silver tongue. Thank you, Jamie.

    Tina

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  2. Thank you for words Tina. Such wonderful little birds they are - one of the sweet benefits I gain from living in the mountains. I hope that you are finding ample time to dance with Nature's wonders.

    Deep blessings friend...

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