looking down the lane

 

when we were at the pumpkin patch yesterday, we walked past a part of the farm where there were no activities. i looked down the lane and just had this feeling that i needed to stop in that moment. to take this picture. right in that spot.

last night, i thought about including the picture in my post. but there was this little voice that told me that i would need the picture later in the week for another post, but i didn't know quite what it would be. but i knew that it would become obvious.

today i got an update on baby burton who i wrote about last week. during this time of transition, his parents asked for people to choose one of many ways to honor burton. light a candle and send them peaceful energy. hug someone a little longer and think or say "this is for burton". squeeze your kids extra tight and be present with them. i hope that you will do one of these things. i know that 99.9% of you don't know this family or this little baby boy, but i don't think that you need to.

i think that you know the world is made better by showing a little love and good energy, even to those that you don't know. all you really need to know is that there is a little family facing the unimaginable.

i also want to include a poem that they shared today.

when i read it, i knew that the poem and my picture were meant to share this space.

for this post.

for burton.

 

In Blackwater Woods

 

By Mary Oliver

 

Look, the trees

are turning

their own bodies

into pillars

of light,

are giving off the rich

fragrance of cinnamon

and fulfillment,

the long tapers

of cattails

are bursting and floating away over

the blue shoulders

of the ponds,

and every pond,

no matter what its

name is, is

nameless now.

Every year

everything

I have ever learned

in my lifetime

leads back to this: the fires

and the black river of loss

whose other side

is salvation,

whose meaning

none of us will ever know.

To live in this world

you must be able

to do three things:

to love what is mortal;

to hold it

against your bones knowing

your own life depends on it;

and, when the time comes to let it go,

to let it go.