The hen flings a single pebble aside
with her yellow, reptilian foot.
Never in eternity the same sound–
a small stone falling on a red leaf.
The juncture of twig and branch,
scarred with lichen, is a gate
we might enter, singing.
The mouse pulls batting
from a hundred-year-old quilt.
She chewed a hole in a blue star
to get it, and now she thrives…
Now is her time to thrive.
Things: simply lasting, then
failing to last: water, a blue heron’s
eye, and the light passing
between them: into light all things
must fall, glad at last to have fallen.
~Jane Kenyon “Things”
Things we think will last won’t.
As transient as a storm-birthed rainbow,
Light passes between things and us,
illuminating a pathway
to something far more lasting.
So we follow, falling, always falling,
failing ourselves to last
until lifted up into the light
Gladly we reflect the Light