There is soft gray smoke gently billowing from the chimney of my neighbor's house on a cool September morning, dancing beautifully as it rises.
It presses against blue sky, and I can see it rise amid the shadows of the still-green leaves on tall, thick trees.
But it fades quickly once it hits sunlight, and my focus is no longer on the intricacy of its dance, the gracefulness of its movement, the beauty of its rich color.
Instead my gaze is drawn to the strands of golden autumnal Light
and it rests there
I whisper-pray, too, from behind the foggy window in my dining room
for this moment to spread, seep deep into my bones
so that in the steady movement of my own body
my own mind
my own heart
in the everydayness of life
would focus less on the dance performed in the shadows
and more on the radiant light into which the movement flows.