The Heart of Spirit

On the back roads between my house and town, there are several stands of pine that look purple if you catch them just right in the late afternoon. They took my breath away and prompted this poem. I keep going back to them to try and capture the majestic light, but so far have not been able to get it quite right. This poem is actually the only poem of mine that has been "published" anywhere, and only in the Crones' Counsel Newsletter, but still I see that as a win. And it might be my favorite poem I've written so far.

The Heart of Spirit

 

If you wish to experience the heart of spirit

Look no farther than the pine trees at sunset

Standing like sentinels in rows just off the road

Inviting you to admire their deep purple trunks

 

If you wish to luxuriate in nature’s purest heart

Sit beneath the oak in springtime at noon

And listen to her breathe in sync with your own breath

In a silent meditation of healing for all that is

 

If you wish to feel the pulse of the planet’s soul

Lie down upon the soft moss on a warm afternoon

And allow the loamy scent to ebb and flow within and without 

Like the breath of distant ancestors who lie below 

 

The heart of spirit is all this and more 

It also lives in the misty pink innocence of an ocean’s new day

In the exuberance of vermillion leaves against a cloudless sky in spring 

And in the shimmering golden sunset water before last light

 

So lie in a hammock on a breezy day and

hum with the chorus of the whispering oaks

Or wander through forests and meadows or beside a still creek

With little thought but to know the purity and perfection of the day

And merely allow the heart of spirit to beat within your own