Sunday, June 29, 2025

I Am A Wonder Tender



I Am a Wonder Tender

I do not rush the bloom,
nor beg the stars to speak in louder tongues.
I sit with shadows, slow and still,
until their stories spill like warm tea.

I do not seek to solve the sky—
only to witness how the light
folds into cloud,
how the wind cradles the last golden leaf
like a whispered farewell.

I gather symbols like river stones,
each one smooth with memory,
each one humming a quiet myth
no textbook ever taught me.

I write not to explain—
but to remember.
To trace the curve of a feeling
before it vanishes.

My camera is not a hunter.
It is a bowl,
catching the flicker of a bird
or the trembling of my own breath
against the dawn.

I build altars out of ordinary things—
a spoon, a feather, a word unspoken.
I believe holiness lives
in the moments we don’t post,
in the silences we keep like heirlooms.

I do not preach.
I tend.
I do not claim truth.
I light small lanterns and place them along the path,
just in case someone
is walking in the dark
and still believes
in wonder.

- Vendredi 



COPYRIGHT 2007-2025 Patti Friday b.1959.

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