A few weeks ago I spent lovely hours wandering the fields and roads of my hometown with deep thanksgiving for the place and people of my childhood. Perhaps my reflections from those walks will give your soul a rest from whatever heartache or grief you find in this strange time.
Nature awakens ancient connections of Spirit that give me renewed courage. To allow and then resist my own mean anger. To be refreshed enough to face with Love the unkindness of people I thought I knew. To simply hold Life as it is given, surrendering to all of its complex splendor.
At the Moore House
I was very little when I first came to this bluff
Its blue waters sparked a kinship
that anchors my soul to a place and time
of soft awe
How old was I then? Three? Maybe only two
How old am I now?
I feel heavy years blow away with river breeze
I am as old as the York
And young again.
At Wormley Creek Pond
Here, where waters rush over the little dam
I hear birds and tiny critters
scurry under crispy leaves, gently dusting the quiet
Civilization is not far
and on cue, a church bell chimes noon somewhere
distant but not too far
And turtles line up on the old log
as they have all of the years I’ve come here
and long before
This is their place
Time moves quietly in this world
a slow pace my soul craves.
At River’s Edge
I walked the old sand trail through shrubs and trees
down its narrow profile to a new pier
the brine of the river like fine wine
My cup of memories overflows
Goodness and mercy follow me
as surely as this river
flows and ebbs in my mind
even when I am far, far away.
On the Fields
Something about fall
makes me want to walk the fields
where tall grasses brush
my elbows with feathers of sun-dry leaves
Little tufts of seeds, disturbed by even
my ambling pace
float away to become next year’s meadow
Sticky prickly burrs cover my jeans
and walking shoes
I didn’t bring proper leather gloves to pick them off
Trust me ~ fingers don’t work
Note: tweezers pop them off neatly.
Post Script
This morning ramble started cool
But the autumn sun warms me now
A brief rest under this old tree and
with contented sigh, I turn back
Until next time dear Yorktown
my heart stays partly here you know.
Original photos by Dorothy Barkley Bryson October 2024 iPhone 13
TO CONNNECT. I would love to hear from you and learn how this piece (or any of my other writings here) resonate with you and your journey to finding your own deepest self, your own Real. While these writings are about my path, my hope is that they shine light for yours. You can email me directly at barkleybryson41@gmail.com or you can also simply subscribe via the home page of this website. May peace and happiness be yours, always.
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