This morning there is no place <br />waiting for me except where my feet take me <br />or where my car seems to go of its own accord. <br /> <br />I notice iris stalks in the cold air <br />beside the gas station driveway <br />and lemons in a small tree across the street. <br /> <br />None of them have any plans for me <br />or anything to say, and that is fine because <br />things real are given in silence, and the silence <br /> <br />of this morning is a great blue bowl <br />filled with earth and sky, <br />and the silence of the lemons and iris stalks <br />is one of mutual respect <br />of pure being in all of us. <br /> <br />Pine trees in the distance <br />wear luxurious fir coats, <br />the mountains' far outline is jagged and wild, <br /> <br />and there is everywhere to go <br />and nowhere<br /><br />Max Reif<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/saturday-3/
