When a winter white falls from the sky
for just a moment, time stops
a certain warmth embraces
a silence wisps through cracks
and life gives you permission—to be slow.
Odd how we need something to give us permission to pause
and take a breath, and be okay with the rest
like a butterfly that lands near, and captures your gaze
or a lone flower fluttering in the wind enchants and begs a glance.
In the moment of a wonder, the rhythm of silence appears
you stop, and instantly—you are you,
not having to be something for someone else.
you are not before or after, bitter or sweet, better or worse,
—not needing to be doing, producing, being something.
You simply are—present. A watcher of a moment of life on earth.
You are, being.