Just a Minute
News spews endless atrocities
every minute of every day of every week
wars and politics and wars about politics
and countless voices vying for attention
with urgent needs and opinions
while speeding cars and trucks race
like rats away and back again.
But I wasn’t created for this.
I don’t believe any of us were —
in the beginning.
There was a time long ago when a minute
held less but much more at the same time
when it was filled with quiet stillness
and the only things busying were the bees.
A time similar to this one minute
when all is quiet in the early morning
and the only sounds are the minute as it ticks by
and the chorus of the dawn
singing a sweet melody of belonging
and the calm breeze rustling the birch with a voice
like a thousand silver coins falling from heaven
as it meanders along the road
carrying news from grazing cows
that all is intrinsically right with the world.
I take a minute to listen —
take a minute to not do
take a minute to simply be –
in gratitude that I’m part of this
magnificent minute of creation.
~ Lynne
*This poem was originally posted in the publication Weeds & Wildflowers on Medium, May 28. 2022
Lynne Collier 