Strummed
by Will Danforth
I stop on my walk
and stand still,
listening and feeling
the largeness of things
the faint rustling of leaves
up on the hill
the muffled chattering of chickadees
and the cold cracking of trees
All tucked
in this silence so vast
out of sight
somewhere in the woods
the sweet rolling away
of the long view
the horizon hiding legion secrets
in the shadows, the shadows
of the streaming clouds.
To be part of such largeness
that hums
with a harmony strummed
on innumerable strings,
in sympathy
rises a gratitude
as wide and as deep as
where my limitless,
limitless self will extend.
To feel so small
and likewise
so large;
to be so strummed
and all at once
feel the all in one
and the one in all.