Listen for the Music at the Riverbank

Listen for the Music at the Riverbank

            1.   My dad taught me the joy of skipping stones. I’d never

                  seen it done. I still do it when I get near a small lake or

                  river.

            2.   Bend low, sling the flat stone as fast as you can and

                  you’ll get three or four hops out of it over the water.

            3.   It’s an angel’s dance; I saw a champion once get 18 or 

                  20 hops . . . plink, plink, plink . . . even more is possible.

            4.   Sometimes, after surviving a crisis or completing a gut-

                  wrenching job, you long for the music.

            5.   Somewhere inside, you have a river. Go there, where

                  you’ll hear real things, all else blotted out.

            6.   There, you’ll learn how to recapture your gifts and know

                  where you belong.

            7.   Exult in what only you do so well . . . plink, plink,

                  plink. It can be that easy when you bend to true

                  aspiration.

Aspiration

A true act

of nature

is skipping stones,

an extension

of a skipping heart.

I see a certain

kind of fly

that lights quickly

and sequentially

over more

dormant water

like a swamp

or slow-moving river.

The darter speaks

to our aspiration.

A crisis will

slow me down

to solid thick

movement,

preparing me

for that time

when I dance

on the river bank.

© 2012 Allan Cox, Allan Cox & Associates Inc. All Rights Reserved.

____________________________________________________

Tweet