Picture a moment a huge wattle covered in bumblebee style blossoms,
But it’s late in the season and the slightest bump or breeze makes them fall…
The wind starts picking up creating a delightful blossom fuzz ‘snow’,
Mesmerised you watch them float towards the ground as the wind plays,
For this delicate dance ’tis one of natures more quintessential forays…
Ever gently one fluffy yellow segment floats onto your hand,
’Tis like holding the tiniest of delicate feathers you’ve ever seen,
Created by the same force of nature that is known for destruction,
Thus pondering this polarity you watch the breeze pick it up once again,
And allow it to whisk away the debris you’re holding without strain.
This gentle wisp of breeze now continues its seraphic mission,
Blowing segment by segment each blossom from the tree,
And energetic element by element from your auras debris,
Easing your mind of the grasp of the days stresses demolition,
Allowing space for you to heal your soul - grounded with volition…
As the unseen weight of energetic debris lifts from your being,
You note the new vibrance of the wattle seemingly restored,
Though it may be just your perspective as you notice leaves before now ignored,
Contemplating what of you can now be seen that’s imploring for healing,
You venture from this moment with a much lighter feeling.
* * * * * * * * *
~ A note for those wondering; no the picture is not wattle… ’tis mulga… one of the wattles outback ‘cousins’. 🙂
The Poetic Life 2.0 