Solstice Stillness

Sacred Mound in Spring

Early, early on a Tuesday morning
so quiet, you can hear the squirrels
running spirals around the pine trunks
and scolding, scolding.
I brush my teeth while a mockingbird flirts with herself
in the rear view mirror of my car.
A wonder that the world is asleep
while brand-new webs are woven
in the rhododendron branches
where lemony rays of new sun
cut through to make them sparkle.
The rhodo blooms in tight pink buds
that burst into a myriad flowers in a bunch
while we watch.
I sit at a bench, writing, writing,
ignoring a tumult in my periphery
until, gentle and silent as the new day,
a mother doe steps into my vision,
her fawn following gingerly behind.
O, to be awake on this glorious day,
Grandmother gazing indulgently nearby,
this next new day, so young, so full,
gentle and fierce and long,
waiting like a robin’s egg
to open before our eyes.

Annelinde Metzner 
Price Lake      
June 23, 2009

Listen to Deb Scott reading my poem, performing in our concert "In the Mother Grove" in 2009.

Grandmother nearby in the fog

Rhododendron budding