Today, I raked a small section of the front yard as a reflective exercise, while listening to the guided meditation. I like to keep parts of the yard natural and un-raked and I don’t rake daily. But, it is a familiar activity I enjoy — in small doses — and that I have done for many years.
As I rake and breathe, I feel the cold air move over my tongue. My heart beat becomes palpable under my ribs. I am more aware that I am sharing space with the trunks and branches around me, whose leaves I am moving around. A raking poem:
I felt a pause.
I acknowledged it
by looking up at the trees,
who waved to me