ode to slow

is not so much the speed

as the mind and heart moving in sync -

and sometimes its a brisk pace

of farm chores, jobs to be done,

a juggle and a tussle of needs and wants

and hats and bananas and clean nappies -

laundry hung to dry, eggs to be packed,

or the steady pace of a toddler who stoops low

to notice a small beetle scuttle across the floor

or in the grey of the morning

the flapping arms and open smile

of a babe, just awakened -

ahhh, in the carefully savoured sips of hot tea,

and the smell of verbena leaves crushed,

or the time we woke up earlier than usual,

and finding ourselves with time aplenty to

draw after breakfast, he working on squids

and me on a sketchy hen -

how good it felt to my weary eyes,

to see that old friend, familiar blue!

a tuning in

on car rides to school;

confessions of a five year old,

questions asked, ideas posed -

"how many days will you be alive mama?"

or to a well-written book propped open on a pillow

while breastfeeding in bed

(instead of scrolling on my phone)

to shed a tear for the beauty of the afternoon sun

against the kitchen wall,

and tuning out

to the inner-critic who

so easily finds fault, or worries,

to the temptation to keep scrolling

on social media, and to all the cheap news and fluff,

is choosing to live with less,

or make do, mend a thing,

borrow, go without even -

taking time, when we can, to do just 

one

 thing -

is being rooted

unquestionably

in belief, in the

treasures of the heart;

gentleness, compassion, love, grace, celebration -

is being exactly where I am at this moment,

contented.