Do i wish the robin would sing a different song?
Do i want the woodpecker not to rat-a-tat-tat?
Or the chickadee not to hop into the birdfeeder?
Or sigh, "If only the frog hadn't jumped into the pond"?
Do i think the phlox should look different that it does?
Or that the columbine really shouldn't wear that color?
Don't the geraniums know that red and magenta clash?
Or the rhododendrons that their colors are so yesterday?
Sitting on my deck in the early morning,
Nature unfolds moment-by-moment.
My comparing, judgmental, critical mind comes to rest
in the calmness of what is.
Revealing the uselessness
of any coulda', woulda', shoulda'.
Tranquility reflecting the stress
of wanting anything to be different than it is.
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