Vision

This is the second of seven poems in a series.

Vision

I began to see (not with just my eyes)
one morning as I poured my coffee
into the earthen mug that my wife had
brought home from the pottery stand
at the farmer's market.

Mindfulness they say, the meditation folks....
Is that what it was?
I certainly wasn't trying
but there I was.
I was there with and in
every wisp of steam that rose upward
from the glassy surface of the black liquid.
I was there with the fired and shaped clay
in my hand and felt the care that had
been taken in its making.

Simple.  Nothing really.  Not much.
Just a moment.

Simple.
And the deepest thing.
A way to live that sees and is one
with all the simple beauty that is
literally
everywhere
and
in everything.