The best way to succeed in life is to
act on the advice we give to others. ~Author unknown
Sun on my face, birds on every branch,
bulbs sprouting, green grass emerging
before our eyes in this patch of nature
wedged between busy state highways.
All feeling the same way, the same joy,
blessed by whoever we pray to, but today
we worship blue skies, and magnolia trees.
Here together, but alone, not a word said,
barely a nod as we stroll past one another.
On days like these, I wish we could talk to
each other. I would tell them what I know
what I see, what I think and how I’m feeling.
I’d tell a Dad, be patient with your boy as
they try to fly a kite with not much wind.
I’d tell a Mom in tight fitting jeans to go slow
on her bike, don’t worry about your weight
from where I’m standing, you look mighty fine.
I’d tell a guy walking with headphones to take
them off, listen to children laughing, jays calling,
the swings swaying and the little dogs yapping.
Turn off your phone, walk a trail, read the signs,
identify the trees, admire them, know their names.
I’d tell young parents- let the kids shed their coats,
let them run wild across the fields in the sunshine.
Let them pickup sticks, turn over rocks, look for bugs.
I’d tell another guy by the swings not to say it’s time to
leave and keep pushing until they say they want to go.
I want to ask them all to not scold their babies about
muddy sneakers, grass stains on knees or torn shirts.
I’d remind them how cheap band aids are and how
soap and water is most plentiful in this great country.
I want to offer to take a picture for the one family,
because Dads need to be in some of the photos too.
I’d tell an older couple it’s cool how they still hold
hands after all these years as they walk the path.
I want to tell a lady she’s reading an awesome
book and how it’s much better than the movie.
I’d like to tell the elderly couple that I know what
they’re thinking as they watch a girl dig in the dirt
or when they smile as a boy throws his football.
I wish I could advise the teenager under a scarlet oak
not to worry about what she’s writing in her notebook
or what people will say if they read it. Write it down and
always have some extra pens with you is what I’d say.
I want to wave to a Mom with a plaid blanket spread out
for a picnic lunch. I’d tell her that in forty years her kids
will remember days like this one and they’ll miss it too.