Being Present

It’s raining out so I sit on the old green bent rocker on my studio porch.
A symphony of raindrops splash off metal roof,
cedar branches, maple leaves and dirt path.
Raven’s deep call in the distance, tree frog seems to answer.
I’m staring at the trunk of a massive maple tree covered in moss.
Rain drops hang like pearls from the fronds.
I smell wet leaves, chilly fresh air
and faint scent of male deer.
Hard to keep my thoughts here, now.
So much to do, I’m a little cold.
A seaplane takes off in the inlet
and I head inside.
I need to do this more.
Just sit and soak in sounds, smells and sights of my paradise.
Nothing should be more important
but try to tell my head that.

©2015 Sharron R. McMillan