Fluid Summer

Digital Images by Ann Johnson

Go Slowly


Some would say
I should hurry,
move quickly,
time’s a-wasting

The conscious decision
to attend
requires
Not-Quite-Slow-Motion,
entering time differently.

The summer opens up
new knowings:
a soft flutter of bee’s wings kissing my hand,
a conversation with a preening crayfish
following a rainstorm,
bird voices tuning a morning meadow,
stained-glass chambers of light
in a sunflower leaf.

If hurrying, I would have missed
twin fawns playing
before my interview in the park.

If distracted in thought,
I would have missed the
waving pinchers of a roan stag beetle.

If too engaged elsewhere,
I would have missed
raindrops on strands of grass,
the iridescence of the beetle
sipping from wet globes.

Join me at this pace
in silence,
in unity,
in witness.