Self-Portrait with Mandolin
Being
the afterthought
of wood and
steel, I accept
the phrases
allowed me.
Limitations
frame our days;
working within,
we grow.
Almond to tree,
sound in time.
Chords
by implication.
I root among
the falling
leaves,
gathering
their tunes.
When I cannot
see, my hands
find the way.
Tunes among the falling/fallen leaves is intriguing … Rumi says we need to listen with our entire body … maybe jump into a pile of leaves and just lie there letting the tunes open our “ear”??
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I, for one, would like to do just that! It’s been a long time since I jumped into a pile of leaves!
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Aw a picture of your hands 😛
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🙂
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