On the periphery it flickers
Almost out of sight or reach
Blink and you miss it
The burning bush
to work, on
the phone, eating
Never see or grasp.
It whispers but we miss the flame
Still it flares
Stop. Breathe. Listen. See.
Art in dishes’ sparkle
Symphony in traffic’s ebb and flow
Humanity in brief conversation
A feast in a bowl of stew
In all, it blazes
Take off your shoes, for the ground that you stand on is holy.
The burning bush blazes but is all too often neglected.
In the rush of the traffic, the call of our business, the clatter
Of dishes, the ring of a phone. We forget and don’t listen,
Don’t see and don’t notice, we’re too busy trying and striving
And doing to just stop and be. But sometimes a moment
Will catch our attention, and on the periphery we’ll get
A glimpse of something unusual, something that’s beautiful,
Something worth noticing, seeing, remembering. It’s waiting
There always if we’ll just stop and see and waltz barefoot.