Who Could Ask for More?


I’m taking smaller doses of everything I hear
and leaving nothing lacking but tasted without fear.
I’m taking shorter walks these days along the beaten path,
and spending time just gazing at every blade of grass.
I don’t know if a minute or an hour mean as much
as many days of mine, I only know right now–
this second–I am here, alert, attentively alive.
And though my days are numbered to a fraction of my life,
I will have found a haven–a place to rest awhile–
and feel the wonder of there being anything at all.
Who could ask for more?

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Filed under Celtic, Nature, Poetry, Self care, Spirituality, Time, wisdom

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