Spring Morning Meditation Poem by Glen Kappy
Spring Morning Meditation
from 'While Passing Through'/Spring
Mid morning.
The sights and sounds
of early spring
are everywhere.
High above—
the sky so blue
jets chalk its dome
in different directions.
How and when
to get from here
to the next somewhere?
Do we always need new vistas?
Why not just get yourself a life-membership seat, and sit here on earth and enjoy eternal spring? : -)
a life membership? ah, but laurie, the One eternal is God, and i'm convinced that letting go is one of the few essentials for joy... thanks for reading my poem. -glen
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/22/2024 3:20:51 AM # 1.0.0.1119
An astute question, Glen. We who are blessed and cursed to always be surveying the horizon, yet longing for a place to call home. We are wanderers, indeed, pilgrims here. Truly a pleasant journey in many ways, but looking, too, for that place called Home where we can for once know that our journeys are done.
hey, neal! thanks for reading and commenting on this poem. yes, like many things, the restlessness is two-sided. on the composition of this poem it just kinda happened on a walk. and like some poems of the the early chinese poets who among my favorites (li po, tu fu) the connections for me as writer took a bit to settle on me. this poetry-making is a journey in itself, eh? glen