Opening the red door to a new spring day.
my feet greet crumbs of last year’s leaves,
dotted with recent, light green pollen
all swirled into the little cove, entry
that guides me into and from
this place, this home,
and they rattle a brittle kind of music
together, new and old,
crunchy and soft,
before I even lift a sneakered foot
across the threshold.
There it is—a word, a season, a sound;
threshold, May, music,
and my mind goes to all the beginnings;
friends welcoming grandchildren,
my niece with a new Master’s degree,
and last eve, baby bunnies
shaped like promise
against the lovely, later dusk
in the front yard.
A poem, a sign,
seasons bumping up against
each other, and my mind
goes to all the endings;
one woman struggling with reason
in the wake of her husband’s suicide,
another, across the world, daily grieving
her young daughter,
who would be nearly eight now,
taken by a disease deemed too rare
to fund research for a cure.
Endings, beginnings, the seasons
tireless with their lesson plans,
and somewhere between
the rest of us keep forgetting
to be alive while we live,
and the wind keeps
this too shall pass,
so be urgent with this
moment, press your face
into the grass,
let the musky earth
fill your senses,
leave the laundry
for another day.
….”Be urgent with this moment”….Oh my Goddess Melinda – deep deep bow…..
Thank you, Marina!
I so appreciate your reading and comenting!