what you put out there
a mourning dove flits down with a branch in her beak
building a nest, i can imagine, her task for the week
the hummingbird buzzes by, close and then away
following a clock that moves at an incomprehensible speed
what are the things that call us, so deep
that the wisdom is lost to habits on repeat
what would it take to honor our past
to set away shame and take steps of change
not with a run but with a slow steady pace
to see what surrounds and notice its weight
all that you feel that you need to be whole
conspiring against your spirit’s intrinsic call
to be, just be, find your nest to weave
and the timing that allows you to breathe