Before most of the world awakes
There is life
Stirring
Against the backdrop of quiet rain
The sounds of early light
Vibrate boldly
I awake to this invitation to pause
A silver shroud of clouds and fog
Obscure the horizon
That I know is still there
Beyond the startling green of the trees
There is no distinction
Between sky and water
Until a fog horn sounds
And my mind can see a massive vessel
Passing by in the shipping lane
Laden with oar
Coming from or returning to
The ocean
A sound so ancient
Inviting melancholy
Unearthing memory
A sound that calls forth
This pause to notice
What is unseen
Yet, still there
I remember now, the essential process
Holy and Divine
The Noticing
The reunion with things beyond
Janet Elizabeth Hartwick Sterk
June 31, 2018
Linnea Dietrich
When I grew up in Little Falls, at night about 10:30 a train would pass through town and blow its whistle. When we talked about your developing poem, this is where I came up with the melancholy. I would be lying in bed and hear the train whistle off in the distance. When I stay at Erin’s or Shannon’s often I hear a train whistle way off somewhere and I feel instant melancholy, slower thoughts, memories and nostalgia while missing my mom. And a calm “all is right with the world” feeling. Yes, a time to pause. Love your poem.
HealingJourneys
Wow, that is beautiful Linnea. Thank you for the deep awareness and tender story you have shared. You are amazing. Thanks for reading my blog too!