Some poetry for Friday

An early blip today, I have much to do as we have another friend arriving at PDX at 6 p.m.

Instead of a poetry post, a poetry tree. I liked the stones and the fir cone inside the box. Had to juggle camera and umbrella as we are having heavy rain today.

The writing is a little hard to read so here's a transcript:

What is Supposed to Happen, by Naomi Shihab Nye

When you were small,
we watched you sleeping,
waves of breath
filling your chest.
Sometimes we hid behind
the wall of baby, soft cradle
of baby needs.
I loved carrying you between
my own body and the world.

Now you are sharpening pencils,
entering the forest of
lunch boxes, little desks.
People I never saw before
call out your name
and you wave.

This loss I feel,
this shrinking,
as your field of roses
grows and grows...

Now I understand history.
Now I understand my mother's
ancient eyes.

The prose is a Henry David Thoreau quote:

As a single footstep will not make a path on the earth, so a single thought will not make a pathway in the mind. To make a deep physical path, we walk again and again. To make a deep mental path, we must think over and over the kind of thoughts we wish to dominate our lives.