The gifts of less

Hello friends, the recent summer rain here by the Oconee River has been a welcome change. The garden is instantly greener, the birds are afterwards more vocal, and the river itself is replenished. My awareness of how the world is interconnected heightens my ecology of place. This poem from 2018 expresses how important it is to maintain balance in life and nature, and to enjoy in a stormy day what I call “the gifts of less,” those daily moments that keep me open to new discoveries. Best, Gene.

 

Showers in Dimming Light

In dimming light, I am folded
into a watery world on our screened porch,
after hours of sultry showers.

Rain-sound becomes a soft concert,
as the swelling Oconee shines oddly orange,
and the sun struggles to save its dusk.

I feel a need to let go
into this peaceful solitude,
a pleasant land for the old,

who learn to stop pushing,
to welcome the gifts of less
in a confounding yet humorous way,

when memory takes a sudden holiday
from old friends like Michelangelo
and Galileo, even Tony, the mailman.

Now a harder shower brings dancing
fireflies into the last light
as I surrender to a sustaining embrace

in these unknown currents
along new eddies of discovery.