06/05/2012 08:30 pm ET Updated Aug 05, 2012

On Patience: The Meadow's Voice

I have been here for centuries or longer perhaps, but way longer than your mind can understand.
Here with my creatures nourishing them through the seasons as they nourish me.
Here with the wild flowers which decorate my landscape.
Perhaps you can only see the palette of greens -- so many shades it would blind the artist's eye.
And I continue on and on with minuscule changes you might not notice but which, in flood or mud season, for example, might just change everything.

From my swampy grassy high meadow field to the once-in-a-while trees, to the density rising up to 9,000 feet of mountain, I have something you don't have and will never understand. Not really.

I have patience.
I allow whatever happens to happen.
And adapt and change accordingly.
Do you hear the orchestra of the birds?
They keep me company.
Do you see the ants and animal friends which keep me guessing?
The sage brush fills me and the air with cooling scent and the clouds change all the time so that looking up I truly am in heaven.
The rocks big and small remind me of whence I've come though I know it not in conscious memory but know it as part of my own history, my own very ancient story. They are quiet most of the time though they too are in slow, very slow motion.

So if you want to know about change, you will have to learn patience.

It may take many lifetimes.

For more by Ruth Neubauer, click here.

For more on poetry,click here.