This Balmy December

It’s December

But this walk’s anything but snowy

Face is up and out

Fully receiving the wind

Wind that sings full on past ears

Winter breeze as only it can sound through leave-less trees,

Then through hangers-on with their higher pitched tinkling

Then through the pines with their smooth, streamlined, softer wave sounds in turn

Past the trees to an all wide open field

The grass dances green in the sun filled atmosphere

As the symphony sounds

The at-first-glance brown and spent Queen Anne’s Lace

Deceives it’s winter death and

Jives surreptitiously

There is no contrivance here,

No carefully practiced instruments

No score needing followed just so or else discord

All’s at rest but fully enlivened too and ready and willing

To perform

With the tiniest suggestion of wind or warm or moment

No self indulgent performance here

No need of accolades

Just a fullness of light and sound and Presence

Quite without any human intervention

Save its enjoyment.