“Attention is the beginning of devotion.” — Mary Oliver

Experiences flow through our lives, our days, resembling a gushing waterfall that cascades. They arrive as moments of quiet reflectiveness, an exuberant drowning in sound sometimes, or a sudden stir of the heart that takes our breath away.

We experience a snapshot of seconds, a microcosm of inhabited moments, and a movie reel of minutes that pass all too fleetingly.

We all have occasions when we long to turn back time. Wouldn’t it be great to freeze-frame the highlights and press pause on the best moments of our lives?

Perhaps we could try to pay greater attention to it all, especially the golden glimpses that warm our souls.

Observing our lives is a lot like prayer. It’s gratitude in motion. A sacred act of appreciation and devotion.

We see more when we look with deliberate intent, seek to record with our eyes, and store away in our minds.

I’ve attempted to do that here as I view a pear tree releasing its blossom, listen to birdsong in the trees and the midday hymn singing.

Cascades

Cascades of confetti 
carpet the grass, veil the trees,
drape the garden 
plants, line the pathways,
as soft white blossom
drifts silently, 
detaches itself 
from its original home
on the pyrus communis
where it belongs.

Cascades of birdsong 
trill through the trees,
be they walnut, pear,
apple or oak
or magnificent magnolia,
as it lilts through the leaves,
threads its way
between the boughs, and arches
across the divide
where bony branches stretch.

Cascades of voices
sing out their praise,
whether wobbly and weak
or with vigour and strength
as the notes 
signal a hymn, unknown 
or familiar, 
for each one stems from
a grateful heart 
tuned into hope and love.
© joylenton

“Gratitude is the fairest blossom which springs from the soul.” — Henry Ward Beecher