Promises

If you are still, you can hear the whisper of the creek as it moves toward spring. Twirling leaves and bird feathers, lost in the cheerless winter, float along side each other. When the thaw starts, everything flows again with promises of rebirth, and the whisper becomes a song.

If you are still, the brush on the bank of the creek ignites with movement. The sleeping inhabitants waken from a cold slumber to the music of the water. They dance in anticipation, shedding the remnants of winters dark dress, and look to the sky for the sun.

If you are still, you may see the pleasure of the promise of a warm spot on a branch bobbing in the water brings to the sleepy turtle. His head poking out from his shell to feel the heat of the morning sun slicing through the naked branches of the trees.

If you are still, when you press your palm to your chest you can feel your heart beating with a rhythm of hope, strong and steady. You can hear your breath in this quiet sacred space, a retreat from the noise and interruptions of this world.

The hand of the universe will cover your fear, wherever it is hiding, and share with you the peace of this holy place. Just listen to the silence around you and let it fill your soul with contentment.

The creek keeps its promises every time.

KHB