In the Moment

If I could, I would stay there forever.  In the moment, that is. 



Without memory, for memory is not always pleasant and healthy.

Without planning, for plans take up too much brain space.

Without conversation, for conversation inhibits observation.

Without body, for body hurts or limits in surprising ways.  (Maybe this is the cracked rib speaking.)

Today, I found a moment, twice -- morning and late afternoon --, when my neighbor's Japanese red maple sang.  And I do mean it sang from across her yard into mine, boldly, like Odetta or Nina Simone, but not sad, just strong. 



It sang, "I am red.  I am beautiful.  I make everything else around me sing."

And for a moment, I listened.