Sitting In the Waiting

Pasque flowers, no snow, no rain, awaiting the sun to rise over the tree covered ridge, and light the blooms, to take a photo, something to take with me, they are still in the shadows, for now, I’m sitting in a pine forest on a dead log, in the wait, and it seems to me I need more of that in my life, sitting in the waiting, enjoying it, not dragged by the time in my head, that says to move, to go, out here the pace never changes, probably the most timeless sense I’m ever to feel, watching the sunlight creep along the ground, ever closer, while I wait among the plant life so resident, the longer I sit the more I notice them, their details of colors, shapes, the textures, the intricacy, the integration, and their comfortable presence among diversity, I’m aware I’m a visitor, I breathe deep of their sense of comfort, I’m the one thing that stands out as different, but they don’t seem to mind, we wait together for the sunlight, and the life energy it brings, sitting in the wait.