contemplating my “interior castle” on the first whole day of Spring

I try to sit here
quietly,
find my inner landscape,
that chamber in the castle,
the divine dwelling,
and all I hear is
a bird singing outside.
I know the grass is growing
one blade at a time
this first whole day of spring
but I don’t hear it,
only trust that
it is doing its work.
Am I doing mine?
And what is it
exactly?
I strain to remember.
The bird sings on,
oblivious to my question.
She is in synch
with the nature of things
as I sit on the side.

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