Consciousness

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A squirrel is suddenly statue still, poised half way up an apple tree’s trunk, its cheeks packed with goodies to store, a breeze stirring its fur, sun glinting off a nearby drop of dew, a waft of acorn in the air, and a mockingbird calling in the squirrel’s own voice.

The parents of a fledgling bluebird hover nearby—darting, calling out, protecting—as the fledgling remembers how to fly.

A pig, searching for truffles at the base of the apple tree, unerringly follows its instructions.

A human need only be conscious of all this.

a single thought
an eternal moment
a fallen petal


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This is my entry to @abundance.tribe's contest, What does living consciously mean to you?.

I know little about the poetic form of Haibun, and have only attempted the form once before. In short, and as the linked article states, "Haibun combines a prose poem with a haiku. The haiku usually ends the poem as a sort of whispery and insightful postscript to the prose of the beginning of the poem." This form seemed to be a good way to express my experience of a timeless true thought, deep consciousness. Thank you for reading my haibun.

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image is by @manoldonchev

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