My Sacred, Secret, Sweet Patch of Wonder

Sitting on the dock in the bay

As the Sun crests the facing mountain-top

And shines her millions of golden sparkles

Across the water toward me

I wait...I breathe…

The air is warm, it is early day

A slight breeze floats on through

And coffee steams from my rooster mug beside me

A clean page patiently awaits my purple scrawl

Heart wide open,

It waits for the Gold to appear…

And always, amidst all of the words, the silt, the debris,

There lies the Gold…

It is easy to miss

If not still enough, quiet enough, if I stay in my head too long

This is my place, my space,

My sacred, secret, sweet patch of wonder that I return to again and again…

It lives in me year round, though I am here a mere few days

I recall easily the feeling of this breeze, blowing ever so faintly through my hair

The smell and taste of the perfect coffee on the perfect morning

My purple pen moving effortlessly across the fresh white pages…

Filling them with words… those beautiful magical words

The feeling of an exploding heart, as I listen to the waves lap gently against the shoreline

A boat taking off in the distance, a crow’s wings flapping overhead

And for as far as I can see

And for as long as I sit here and write

And for as deep as I dig into my grateful heart…

The Gold will appear