To Nest

Heeding the call of the bell
which echoed against the forested walls of the valley,
and upon the welcome of the Benedictine monks,
I arrived to take refuge
for a spell.

St. Bridget's little abode found to be a timeless stone
   gem
stoutly perched on a banked stand of wild grasses and
   sage
nestled into scratchy stands of Oak, Pinon,
   Serviceberry & Rabbitbrush
and peeking over as I stiffly walked up the path,
reached out to pull me in from a harried and tenuous
   world.

So quiet I could hear my heart slowly toning
   into the silence like a resting butterfly.
      open, close, open then close again
Such a whisper the soft breeze, a caress to the face
Such a silver eyelash the new moon, blinking down
   from heaven's vault
So azure the skies, spacious but broken with drifting
   white clouds that beckoned and encouraged
So resolute stood Mt. Sopris there, on angelic watch
So at peace the deer and elk
   motionless and unblinking on slender legs
   disappearing into Autumn carpets
So dazzling the stars, glittering like diamonds against
   velvet midnight
their purpose
to pierce the present moment
and arrest time.

I found myself in a wondrous nest, you see
a hexagonal, circled resting place
offered in simplicity expressly for the human spirit
set into smokey green curtains of leaf, cone, acorn and
   needle
still, serene, private
open to the sky and kissed by the sun
yet hidden from lurking trespasses,
and tended by coyote, cricket and cottontail.
As I exhaled and leaned in
I curled myself into submission
and surrendered into nothingness
to release the tangles and brambles of my life.

To nest from time to time is essential.
It is when rejuvenation and restoration are conceived,
continuing unabated
for a spell
protected from worldly happenstance and indifference
kept perfectly warm, incubated and safe
for a spell
to midwife a birth into renewal and resurrection,
a centeredness, inspiration and connectedness
that we dare believe could be possible.