"It sounds like the world is going to start opening up in the next few weeks.” ~ Marj Hahne Murmurings For Marj Hahne beyond the creek, itself thirsty, for something we can't see pass the old man, water up to his knees, as he fishes for a quiver of scales. And that eagle flying at the creek’s bend I lost in the sunset— It too fishes with a rod of talons razor sharp eyes to the task. In my dusk-walks to this creek, I’ve watched that bird. It is swift in kill— all the while evening light turns down a muted spread of color over the mountains and that red barn— a field one over from mine. It has settled into the earth on an angle near collapse the way the world seems to be leaning. Who knows what day the barn will have had enough seasons holding in… spiders, owls and that stray cat color of biscuits. Long gone the pitchforks lifted, hay loft-bound, another life left under the soil of time. I, too, wait… It is what life teaches. And like the bubbling of water calls us to be refreshed leads us into a baptism in light we come asking on our knees for life’s sounds...for the human touch-unmasked. I will lay myself on this hard earth listening, listening, listening the way a mother does when the womb opens for that voice that is hers and not hers.
Sandra McGarry grew up in Massachusetts. Her career, elementary school teacher took her to NJ. Her retirement brought her to Colorado. She believes words can change the world.
Copyright © 2020 Writing for Peace. All rights reserved.