Trusting – at least twice this week I have been forcibly struck by my own good fortune. Earlier this week, I was standing on my front porch listening to a hawk cry as it circle high above on thermals. The day was brilliantly sunny and the porch warm. The mountains across the water glowed, architectures of blue and white fragmented planes. And all I could think of was beauty beauty all around me and I’m alive to see it. Then, last night I awoke and noticed this golden slice of moon traveling over the water. I thought of all the pain in this world and wondered is this beauty our compensation?
Grateful – oh yes, the snow sinks in on itself and the sun has been shining and all of my little seedlings are reaching, reaching. And then today, I am walking with my eyes opened by the possibility that yes, this is spring, yes, and I find chives pushing themselves up towards the world. I tell you, those chives have made me want to shout all day.
Inspired – What a way to open a poetry collection…. this from Camille Dungy’s Smith Blue.
After Opening the New York Times I Wonder
How to Write a Poem about Love
To love like God can love, sometimes.
Before the kettle boils to a whistle, quiet. Quiet
that is lost on me, waiting as I am
for an alarm. The sort of things I notice:
the bay over redbud blossoms, mountains
over magnolia blooms. There is always something
starting somewhere, and I have lost ambition
to look into the details. Shame fits comfortably
as my best skirt, and what can I do
but walk around in that habit? Turn the page.
Turn another page. This was meant to be
about love. Now there is nothing left but this.