The Minute.
Connecting with sky above and earth
below,
eyes unfocused I resolve to observe
slowly
and regard with mindfulness Tiny's
unfolding.
Grass blades creak, restless plants
moan.
Blooms rustle and squeak as petals
open.
Soil heaves with stir when rootlets
unroll.
Busyness mutters when miniscule
grows.
I watch smallness whisper in voice
control
and as awe perceives almost-heard
motion
littleness drops noise to near-silent
key-tone.
At my feet the minute is composing
unknowns
by shifts of momentum compounded
with lows
and inbuilt mumbling non-sounds of
its own.
-
Author:
Fay Slimm. (
Offline) - Published: March 30th, 2021 05:01
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 39
- User favorite of this poem: Violet bluebell( used to be yellow rose).
Offline)
Comments6
Lovely words , Fay 🙂 beautiful read
Thank you Rose and so glad you enjoyed the read.
Good write Fay.
Now it's very 'sad'. A person got upset because someone kept saying 'tiny little' in the same sentence, meaning the same thing.
Haven't these people got anything better to do? They should 'get a life', certainly 'get out more'! lol.
Thank you for your visit and for the comment dear Orchi.
'Grass blades creak, restless plants
moan.
Blooms rustle and squeak as petals
open.
Soil heaves with stir when rootlets
unroll.
Busyness mutters in all miniscule
growing.'
as ever dear Fay, I'm left mesmerised by your choice wording, wonderful imagery!
Am delighted the read gave you pleasure my friend - - Nature's little things have long mesmerised my poetic mind.
It is the small things that are there in our lives that need to be seen with open eyes, minds and hearts.
Andy
Yes I truly agree Andy - - Nature's small things that can teach us so much.
Exquisite! I haven't been coming into mps much lately but so pleased i did this morning to catch this beauty.
Showing once again how in touch you are with nature all around.
The last verse/stanza on its own lifts me.
Hi Dusk - so good to see you back in harness again on M.P.S. - - am delighted the read gave you a lift and thanks for looking in on The Minute.
Little is a conceptual word, if viewed from “Gulliver’s Travels”, for there is always something smaller than the smallest, but your poetic intellect has surely made even the minute sound grandiose.
Thanking you most sincerely my friend for resurrecting my recent tributes to all things nature can use and from which we can learn. So pleased you enjoyed The Minute.
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