At first, I mistook it for patience,
this deep calm surrounding me
as I stood here in the woods,
fallen leaves and branches
at my feet, a holly, tall and green,
standing before me.
But as I lingered, breathing
the cold, moist air, listening
to the silence, feeling
the life of the trees, I knew
it wasn’t patience—
for there was nothing
to endure, no expectation
of better moments
still to come. This,
this moment, was all,
whole and perfect.
This all-pervasive calm
was the whispering of grace.