I would like to be moving so slowly that I might
jump from the train, spend time gathering flowers,
and fashion a bouquet for my hands and heart to hold
as I re-board that still moving train.
I would like to stand at the back of the train
and watch cares fall away like gently floating scarves
caught on a wind to peace
and feel the fluttering kiss of their departure
on my cheek.
It is the slow and quiet moments from which I draw strength
when discordant life overtakes the gentle wind of peace;
discordance so swift, unexpected, and sharp
that even hardy wild flowers wilt beneath its heat.
The slower pace
offers the honeyed taste
fresh as wet from spring rain.
Bouquet's flourish of sprinkling freshness
reminds me to lift my face skyward and
breathe deep the cool, sweet air.
Touch, See, Hear, Taste, and Smell
I savor life from my slow-moving train.