The Way

by Dennis Hunter
January 7, 2020
San Carlos Retreat Center
Delray Beach, Florida


"The Way"

The way the hummingbird seeks out
the color red, tasting the nectar
of flowers, its tiny heart beating
twelve hundred times per minute.
The way the green grass feels
on the soles of your naked feet.
The way the spider's web is built
of filaments almost too fine to see,
the shocking symmetry
of its architecture, the way
it bends and stretches, holding
to the branches as it twists
in the breeze: its strength
arising from its flexibility.
The way the sound of the water
flowing from the shower head
changes pitch when
the water becomes warm.
The way the warm water soothes
your naked and fragile body.
The way water, softest substance
on earth, also carves valleys
in the stone, eroding mountains
and reshaping the beaten earth.
The way the seed dropped by the tree
carries inside the genetic code, the DNA
for creating a whole new tree.
The way the code remains locked
inside the seed, until the seed
is convinced to extend roots
down into the beaten earth,
and offered water and sun from above.
The way the new tree will bear red flowers,
seducing the local hummingbirds just as its
ancestors have always done.

On How to Be

by Dennis Hunter

January 5, 2020

Be like the water of the lake:

Calm and steady, but fluid,

reflecting the clear sky above.

Let the cool morning breeze make ripples

Across your surface and pleasant goosebumps on your skin.

Watch the ripples come and go

without disturbing the nature of the water.

You do not need to climb down in the lake

with the alligator and the catfish,

and try to smooth out the water's wrinkles

with your hands, like a bed sheet.

Be like the sky above,

clear and bright and open,

the low Florida sun beaming across it,

warming your bones and reflecting

on facets of the rippling water like glittering jewels,

inviting the trees and the grass to stand up straighter,

to reach higher, towards the life-giving light.

Here, there, a cloud dots the sky, lingering,

passing across the open expanse.

The sky doesn't mind.

You do not need to stand up

and wave your arms at the clouds,

gesticulating like a madman, trying

to chase them away.

Only stay. The way the lake stays,

ripples not disturbing its deeper stillness.

Only stay. The way the sky stays,

holding space for clouds to come and go.

Only stay, the way the sun stays,

bringing light and life to each part

of the turning world, this part then that part,

each corner waking and sleeping, sleeping then waking again.

Each new day that breaks is an invitation

to root down in stillness like the water

and to stretch open in welcoming like the sky,

to both root down and stretch open like the trees and grass.

But look, now. You stood up too fast,

and startled the catfish

in the muddy shallows at the water's edge,

where she had come, like you,

to warm her scales and blood

in the morning sun.