Remembering

empty-branches-sunrise

I go to this spot every morning to sit and to walk
It’s the one place and the one time that I am able to remember everything that I have forgotten since the last time.
Today’s fiery orange, pearly blue-grey
Is yesterday’s wet cotton candy and military-steel.
The trees that seem burdened this morning
Yesterday stood tall and strong.
The cold dampness underfoot, soaking through my shoes and biting at my knuckles this morning
Where just a few hours ago my moss-covered rock was dry, leaves dancing around it in a warmer gentler breeze.
The same. But different.
In ways that these eyes and ears cannot see or hear.
So too the collection of concepts and preferences That I call me
Tender, gentle, precise, intuitive, delightful
Scared, confused, unkind and demanding
That which seems so solid begins to shift, and shimmer, slipping through my fingers, even as I try to grasp it and name it.
I laugh as I lean close enough to learn it all again.

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