Fed By Everything

The tea that tastes like that
and the pause to stare
at the leaves and love them
as you walk out the door

The long evenings of rest and laughter
that stretch out time
and make a bowl for the stars

The celebrations
that run overtime
past your comfort with resting
to mark that life delivered something sweet

This rice
and the fire to warm it
and the bowl to cup it
and the salt taste and the sweet

If you are lucky
you’ll be struck dumb enough
to see this abundant feast

to hear the words whispering
that you don’t have toil here.

In the end
maybe enlightenment
is a matter of being fed
by everything

each pore consenting
to become a riverbed
of receiving.

– Tara Mohr

photo credit: Jose Tebar