I heard it said:
"A ship in a harbor is safe:
but that's not what ships are built for."
(—to sail, to explore, to discover)
As I sat of an evening in the quiet
of my darkening backyard—
thinking
and inspired
by sights
(kingbirds weaving and darting)
and sounds
(robins chorusing and praising)
of dusk — I thought:
"A bird alighted on the ground, a post, or a branch is at rest:
but that's not what birds are made for."
(—to glide, to sing, to soar)
Then came:
"A person untested is content:
but that's not what we are here for."
(—to stretch, to reach out, to heal)
I left my patio chair,
convinced that "in harbor"
was not my place,
and eager for the challenges at hand.
