Guru in Disguise
A poem
Guru in Disguise
There is something about the way morning light rests on old, mossy oak that quiets the loud in me, invites me to set everything down. As I step closer, I see that she has wrinkled and grayed with age, has weathered seasons, storms—indifference. Still, she stands. She is a resting place for gentle, winged ones, a playground for frolicking gray squirrel. A sharer of secrets to anyone who takes time to listen. She is shelter for those who are worn. Someday she will be gone, will have turned into something else. For now, though, she is here sharing secrets, catching sunshine, inviting us to turn toward the light and listen.
