on turning seventy three

 

alone in my hut

[no one here to invent me]

eyeballing emptiness

 

Rainbow Lorikeet hovering by Trevor Andersen

 

Seventy three missions

around the sun and not

one thing of worldly value

to show for it.

 

No savvy safety-nets:

investment portfolios, insurance policies,

plans A, B and C.  I walk the way

of not-knowing and wonderment.

 

Lofty notions of enlightenment, bliss,

exalted understanding have no buyer here;

I’ll take this uninvited, serene,

free and priceless fulfilment.

 

See, today I heard the air sing

as it danced through the rainbow wings

of a Lorikeet suspended

in space.

 

Today I watched cumulonimbus

massing in the west, those

sculpted edges alive with flaming gold

as the sun went down.

 

Tonight, as dusk fell

bringing cool relief to the sweating forest

I giddily inhaled a draught

laden with night-scented Jessamine.

 

And it is enough. Whatever may lie ahead

for this beloved bag of bones

the simple sensuous joy of being Presence

 

is enough.

 


Rainbow Lorikeet hovering. Photograph by Trevor Andersen.


20 thoughts on “on turning seventy three

  1. Happy Birthday, Miriam! and thank you for sharing the wonderful gift of your vision. You are such a continuing inspiration your writing brings peace and joy to my Soul. All the best — and ‘cheers’ ! Michael C. in Philadelphia, USA

    1. A lovely comment, thank you Mr McDonough. It’s a realisation with two arms – one, This Is Enough; two, This Is All There Is.

      Ooops… may as well fall in the deep end and drown now, since as the zen masters point out, “Nothing comes next.”

      When are you going to take up pen on your excellent blog again?

      🙂

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