At the Turning of the Light
WHAT WE TEACH THEM
My daughter sits on the edge of her seat
so her legs can dangle and says,
her voice stretching the length of the bus,
That man looks like a monkey.
I flush, because he will never know
how much she likes monkeys,
how, at the zoo, we watch them endlessly
swinging through truncated trees. She says
they twinkle because they are having fun.
Perhaps the man would like to look
as if he’s having fun, but she and I discuss instead
hurt feelings and rudeness, until she stammers,
But I like the way he looks
and the man smiles, a real smile,
a smile that says connection, but she
now has a pinch of doubt.
Poem by CB Follett from "At the Turning of the Light."
LISTEN
Have you been listening to the voices of rain
how they linger behind your ears
how they wait with patience for your good attention
Consider the small lives beneath the shadows
how they weave this Earth together with you with us
Go out into the sounds of bark and soil
Listen this is a good moment
Close the Dutch doors Turn your back to the past
Drive down any road
and commit to horizons
Open your chambered heart
Be expectant
What’s out there can lead inside
the thin edge of miracles always out of reach
It’s not necessary to sound the trumpet
Lift your hesitant face to the light falling from trees
listen
Lift your hesitant face to the light falling from trees
It’s not necessary to sound the trumpet
the thin edge of miracles always out of reach
What’s out there can lead you inside
Be expectant
Open your chambered heart
and commit to horizons
Drive down any road
Turn your back to the past Close the Dutch doors
Listen this is a good moment
Go out into the sounds of bark and soil
how they weave this Earth together with you with us
Consider the small lives beneath the shadows
how they wait with patience for your good attention
how they linger behind your ears
Have you been listening to the voices of rain
Poem by CB Follett from "At the Turning of the Light."