Discombobulation

Dear Slow friends,

Today a little poem, written as I wander from one place to another—Scottish Highlands to France—and ponder on everything that is happening in between.

A cottage garden 
unfurls
outside the window
from where I write.

My gaze is captured
heart stopped with surprise
that in a world of rush and retreat
the sight of forget-me-knots 
can fulfill my need
for calm; for life without speed.

Because in one fleeting moment
a tiny wisp of time
all else paled into insignificance
and a state of discombobulation
was replaced with the knowledge
that all is alright.

Note: Discombobulate is a fun word for “confuse.” If something has put you in a state where you don't know up from down and you can't spell your own name, you may be discombobulated!