Present

I want to be present the moment something happens.   It could be anything, and I don’t want to miss it.   It is the sound of a distant lawn mower.   It is the twitter of a bird.    It is the movement of a leaf and the brushing of a branch against the screen.

I don’t want to miss anything.   My walk through the garden is a succession of happenings and revelations.  What seems a passing of time is simply one happening after another.     It is one now after another now.

I don’t intend to miss out on any of them.   I will always be ready to raise my hand and, once again, shout “present!”