Inside looking out

A garden to walk in and immensity to dream in--what more could he ask?

A few flowers at his feet and above him the stars.

                                                           Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

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it is one of those days

when the world closes in

clouds hover above the ground, glowering

a soft mist falls

and in the feeble light leaves glisten with moisture

the cat hovers under a bush

and the horses huddle unnder the big fir

I sit inside, looking out

I am surrounded by my books, by manuscripts finished and unfinished

Paperwork to finish

this is my place, my center

usually I am too busy to sit

and look out the window

and notice the drops of moisture dripping off the lilac bush

the glow of the basalt in the rain

the neon color of the golden barberry bush, glowing

the eerie light filtering

through wetly dense clouds,

that streak of light, finally breaking through

setting one lone tree aflame

perhaps we all need more times

when we sit quietly

at the center of who we are

snuggled with the Sacred (who may well be a cat)

looking out

pondering

noticing

receiving little gifts of grace

finding again the space to breathe

and feel

and

remember who we are

contemplation