Life Is Never Done

Waking from a dream, to sit by a stream, just lazing, sitting in the cool of the morning under a willow, just gazing, at sunlight shimmering through pretty poison ivy, slowing down my inner drive, letting go my need to strive, letting go my inner clock, that never ending ticking tock, replaced by a calming sigh, a moment to stop and turn my gaze to the never ending sky, out here in a wild, to stop thinking, to just sit, alone, and silent, with no need for any unnecessary kinds of intent. And then comes an almost overwhelming sense of connection, to life, to the life in the leaves and branches, in the insects and birds, and yes, even in the turds, in the soil, in the life from the sun, and from the water, to the life in myself, taking a stop today, out here in a wild, where, for me, time goes away, to be a part of this place where all life is one, where individual lives die yet where life itself is never done.