And finally, I find myself
enjoying the companionship of silence,
of having no instructions
as my feet step out in front of me,
of spinning no stories  –
just letting the things I see be hymns –
the deer with their tentative presence,
the grass now green again, ferns gone brown,
the piercing blue as fog lifts,
the bracing cold

There’s memory, too –
images unfolding, innocent of judgment,
showing I can also
see my folly without regret,
and younger viewpoints
without correcting

So I learn kindness
in the stillness deep inside,
so I learn quiet
in the unassuming rhythm of the land.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 1, 2020