Meditation

by Molly Frederick

With open hands, I wait. For no
enlightenment.

Prolonged each moment, then the
next.

And the next.

No one told me it would take so
long.

Until it comes to me,

That this is
just a kind of reaching —

Like a daffodil tilting toward a
slow silent sweep of sunlight

While day progresses.

Full,
rich, and succulent.

All this waiting.

*     *     *     *     *

In a letter, Molly wrote this,

For me, writing poetry  – which I’ve done for many decades  – is about seeing what’s really there.
I look for places where the Universe steps through.
Then I work with words to recapture the experience, for myself and also for others. Nature is often the subject, and every answer leaves me with a question.
I find that fascinating.

(Copyright 2023 Molly Frederick)

The image that leads this post is by Dave M from Pixabay.

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