the things that truly matter

Thirty years from now, it won’t matter what they thought of you. It won’t matter what things you owned and accumulated, what worries you kept in your pocket.

What will matter are the lessons you learned and how you lived those lessons through.

What will matter are the lives you strived to make better, whether four-legged or two.

What will matter are the relationships you nurtured, and the time you spent trying something new.

What will matter are the fears you conquered and the calling in your heart that you heeded, because that calling makes you you.

What will matter is the knowledge you sought and the wisdom you shared with those younger than you.

Every day, rise with grace, gratitude, and purpose, breathe…

and remember the things that truly matter.

dreaming.1

escape

only the sound of our breath
on the wind,

as stars explode,
sprinkle overhead,
poke holes in
peach-colored
sky;

bugs tell stories
in the dirt,

roots of trees
protrude from the earth,
like stiff
serpents;

weeds are welcome
here;

my dog,
sniffing along by my side,
picks up sticks,
consuming
all

with a twitching nose
pressed to
soil;

her collar tags
clicking, clacking
like keys,
tell me where she is;

stopping to rest on a log,
not a bench;

stopping never
for man-made red;

stopping never
to wait;

let’s make tracks
in the dirt,

speak only with
our eyes,

watch the sun dip,
dip,
down,
and away,

the pale sky
swells to
black,

and you find my hand;

let’s soak in silence,

forget the noise,

peel it away from our
skin,
cut it away from our
hair,
tuck it away in a mason
jar,

bury it beneath

unpicked,
flowers,

beneath
rocks
that dot the earth
like buttons,

beneath
leaves that fell away,
away,

away from branches,
twigs and stems;

the air is warm
but not for long;

the sun is rising
elsewhere;

she can’t escape her
purpose.