Busy living in the shadow of
Things known but unseen, silent
And achingly loud in all
Their implied darkness.
Busy living amongst the ruckus
Of children's dirty hands
Scratched feet, sun-kissed and sweaty,
Their tender, giant souls our teachers.
Busy living grounded here and now
By four hens, greenest garden, endless tablets
Cool pool, looming scans with brooding shadows,
This constant undulation of the sacred and profane.
Busy living with sense-making and non-sense
Accepting, the unnavigable ride of odds and
Chances, trends and norms, while holding out for