kindness

“No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.” -Aesop (620-560 BC)



bach's bouree is playing on guitar
in the next room;  ears that know
the familiar tune,  & can hum along
know that each emitted note

by itself is kind-
but banded together
like a hand knit sweater
can offer enough warmth

to heat a monastery, and feed
a dozen monks for a year;
it's so clear we were meant
to be here to listen more

than speaking in jack in the box
chatter- spewing words, sharing
the undigested bits--for what- for
pushing through tall grasses

with the crunch of icy snow packed
above the seemingly unyielding earth
is a practice that, in time, creates
from the root to the flower

deep shimmering of soul's  quiet
mirth- balancing found sticks on flat rocks
laid in a circle for now;
left for an eternity- for now

is the time to leave behind all that
does not orchestrate joists for the
structure, newly found & abandoned
windows in the meadow

work well, do allow
enough light for seeing
neither needing praise, or wishing
criticism, for the melody continues to run

unimpeded-- same in healing;
we don't give balance, we simply take
away the interferences to the freely
moving limbs and joints fully lubricated

synovial fluid gently bathing freedom
on high, low, and in between grace
is delivered at the time for optimum
healing; holly berries stay on tree

throughout the deepest freeze
maintaining its deep red glow
like a russian doll left out in the snow
deep red rouge cheeks shining

through the eyes of children
who see beyond differences-
appreciating simple beauty,
constellations are we

Kate Lamberg
1/27/13

internet photo of ...painting..