Had a good, tough walk today, up some steep streets in Mystic for about 3 miles. As usual, Cia set a sprightly pace, with me puffing along behind but staying up, staying up. I was sweaty, pooped, and happy when it was over, feeling lucky that I'm able to do this kind of wild walking. 

Later, Matty came over and set up his new easel in the backyard and spent 2+ hours painting some of Cia's flowers. It was great to look out and see him back there, standing by his easel and leaning close to study the flowers. When he was finished, we were amazed at how accurate and full of life the painting was. When he was finished, we sat inside for over an hour, chatting about all kinds of things, especially his inspiring 4-day trip to Catty's wilderness hut in the Catskills.   

* artist at work *

* * * * * 

My poem for today . . . 

BELONGING TO EVERYTHING

(Andy H., 70, Blessings, CT)

Some days he’s like a sheep

that has no shepherd,

but just a steady, silent light

to show him the way,

and some shy but athletic happiness

to surround him and say

this is precisely where and when

you should be.

On those days, he belongs to nothing,

but also to everything,

every flock of uprising birds,

all the brightest shaking leaves,

even the worn-out clouds

he sometimes sees above his house,

clouds that seem to be looking

for a place to stay,

like he is on these days when

love is lost inside him,

when all things are singing

and asking what would be the cost

of simply realizing that he’s never

without a shepherd, that love

is lost, yes, but lost inside him forever

and so happy to be there,

and all things are thanking him

always for being their friend

and for staying with bigheartedness

inside their continuous light.