Had I not stopped,
stood still and listened,
surveying the snowy hillside,
I would not have seen the four deer
quietly stand, sniff the breeze,
look at me
and placidly prance into the brush.
Had I not stopped,
stood still and listened,
and given in to peripheral distractions,
I would not have seen the golden-crowned kinglet
cautiously creeping out from the base of the oak,
flutter to a seed pod
protruding through the white-blanketed ground,
scrounge for winter morsels,
hopping from stump to stalk,
unconcerned with my still presence.
Just a brief winter hike.
What, in all of life’s busy race
through each day
have I missed
because I did not stop?
If I had stopped more,
stood still and listened,
what might I have seen and heard and known?
Perhaps,
there is still time.
(Watercolor by Angela Tracy
at the Hermitage)
