(1)

This morning I listen

as a friend at the local cafe

tells me about his son

who graduates high school next year.

He is keen on languages and wants to travel abroad.

 

My friend never had the opportunity to travel.

He shares some struggles with me,

refilling my coffee

as he paddles the whitewater of fatherhood

the best he can,

as all fathers do.

 

Back home,

I sit in meditation for thirty minutes

then chill on the futon for another sixty

listening to a wise teacher on the computer

who helps me understand

how I can be a more loving, understanding, compassionate person.

 

Today is a victory by mid-morning.

 

(2)

In front of the old elementary school,

there’s a broken fence at the community garden.

It’s one of those sturdy three-story brick schools

in the heart of community

that you don’t see much anymore.

The old windows look over the sprouting greenery

to a Baptist church across the street.

Probably costs a fortune to heat the place in January.

 

Now it houses some small non-profits and

a tax accountant on the second floor.

Half of the garden is used by children

who attend the new school

down by the river

(and who seem to be getting a late start on planting this year).

The other half is nurtured by neighbors.

 

Fixing the fence will be simple.

I’ll just walk 10 blocks to the hardware store —

passing through the park to greet

the rising river and the nesting ospreys,

past the pond where the ducks and geese

cruise down low,

extend their landing gear,

and splooshingly glide to a floating rest —

and buy some sixteen penny nails.

 

I’m fixing the fence because

I broke it.

 

Last week I leaned lightly against it after planting some peas

and the top rail just fell off

like it had been wriggling it’s way free for months

waiting for the right moment to jump, and,

under cover of darkness

scamper back to its family in the forest.

 

Alas, I am its captor with a hammer,

pounding confidently into its soft weathered flesh

without worry of bending nails and feeling like a knob.

 

(3)

Later in the day

I listen to another friend who is in a similar place as me —

unemployed, searching, awake & unsure.

She has lots of balls in the air

and is not a trained juggler.

We’ve all been there.

 

Then I was back here,

at home on the front stoop,

enjoying the evening sun and

finishing a book and a beer.

 

(4)

Listen to neighbors.

Interact with nature.

Grow as a human.

 

It was a good day.

Ultimately,

we are all just learning to listen.

 

The machinations of the world

are but distractions

from hearing the notes of the soul.

 

When we listen to our soul

we can’t help but unearth

boundless love

for all beings.

 

Listen and see.