When Wisteria Boughs Hang Low

Charmed Chaos

We should honor Mother Earth with gratitude; otherwise our spirituality may become hypocritical. Radhanath Swami

When wisteria boughs hang low
heavy with the weight of summer,
I crawl beneath their canopy
to weather these uncertain times.

Honeybees murmur a soothing lullaby
and my beating heart slows to a faint echo,
each balmy breath slows, easing into the breeze
when fragrant white petals, like wispy feathers
butterfly kiss my moist glistening skin
they drift, only to fall at my pink toes feet
as male cicadas sing their age old mysteries.

Refreshed and renewed I am grounded,
returned to Mother Earth where I began.

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