Below the surface

of all we have to do

when the heat doesn’t work

we are late for the soccer game

and worried about our country

is the mystery and sacredness of just being alive.

It happens when we are not looking

but in that moment

when we don’t look too hard

and fall just beneath our busyness

we connect with that divine mystery.

We are stopped in our tracks

by a raindrop on a chrysanthemum

a flower-drop full of light

a reflection of us and the world

just below the surface of all we have to do

and there is nowhere to go