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Time moves slow and deliberate

and

gentle at times 

This be just for a reprieve

a pause

A

Time

for a deep

breath 

A

Time

To stand in awe

and

To wonder 

Of clouds in billow

Telling stories

Of

Life 

I remember the late summer afternoons

When my mother

Would look up

At the clouds

And

Tell me,

“Look, there is camp moving...

can you see the horses there...

and here is the little baby on the travois...

and there are the warriors..

I wonder where they are going?” 

Or, sometimes we would see

great herds

Of 

Buffalo

Or

Giant winged creatures

Or Blessed Eagles 

Sometimes we would see

Great chiefs

and

Presidents

as well 

During these times

My mother would often remember

Other times when she as young

and

She was told

of such things

By

Her grandfather 

I remember these times

and

Remember how the clouds looked

and

All the stories that were told

As we watched

The Clouds

Billow

into the highest

Of

Heavens

In the late summer afternoons 

These times were

a

Pause

a

breath

a

Moment

to

glimpse of life

As it is revealed 

A time for

My mother and I

To

Smile

and

Enjoy our time together 

But time

Does not

Stand still

These moments were only moments

and

As the Day surrendered to the night

Time seemed to quicken

Off in the distance

Too soon

we would see

the racing hoard

of

Faceless Dark Plunder

Charge into our pictures

In seeming invisible fashion 

And

As the day met the night

The flash of lightning

and

Sound of Thunder

Would play to our

Fresh imagination

And we would wonder

If a war was being revealed  

We would wonder

if it was

the warriors

That were present

Just a short while ago

now fighting the intruders of the night

and we could see

the warriors and horses

and

The skirmish in the clouds 

Or sometimes we would see

great creatures, great warriors and great cities and castles

far atop the thunder head

and then the lightning and thunder

accentuated the great accomplishment of the sky

This was a time to be inspired

by

The sublime 

A sublime

celestial cinema

of our own lives

and what invisible forces were at work 

      compelled  

To reflect

we must question

our own vulnerabilities and disposition to power

and

question whether we are like warriors

or

are we the intruders

whether we are the victims

or

are we the oppressors of power 

Whether

Our lives

Are billowing up

In celebration

Or

Collapsing

In

Chaos 

But

During these times

Inevitably

The charges of the twilight

Are erased

and

one moment is replaced with others

and

dreams are washed away 

And

whatever the purpose for these moments

The rain would invariably fall

and

Time would again slow

to hold us captive

for us to peer through the windows of our life

From our  places of safety and refuge

to meditate

in thought about our own existence

We learn

These times were for us to learn

To Endure

and cultivate

from the energy of the world and be nourished by the waters of life

To take what the night

and

Then the day

gave us

as

A blessing 

From

The rain

The showers of delight

or the tears of remorse: 

The making:of the day and of the night

The making of life