Watch Tower

We lie together on the bed
Looking out of the second-floor window.

Maple leaves flutter.

A blackbird with a yellow beak
Pecks at the grass in the front yard.

From this vantage point
The lawn looks like a spotted
Toad with yellow markings
Covering its body.

I open the window and he
Lifts his head, sniffs the air.
Who’s coming?
What does he smell?

We both jerk our heads to see
The walker who strolls by
Buoyantly chatting with someone
On the other end of the line.

I see why he spends hours here
In the “watch tower.”
Bits of life happen all day long.

I lay my head on a pillow
And listen. It’s all I can muster
After an hour of weeding
And pruning the huge hair bun
On the grape vine.

My old self has faded;
The one who squeezed in laundry,
Making dinner, walking the dogs,
Weeding and pruning in between
Teaching, writing newsletters,
Calling people back and posting
On Facebook.

It’s been three months
On this new journey.

I’ve unraveled.
Unfurled.
Dissolved.

I’m happy now if the laundry
Gets done in three days.
If I pull weeds once a week.
If I have food in my refrigerator.

I’m most happy sitting
Among the plants, watching
Them grow. Listening 
To birds chirp.
Watching my dogs lounge in their beds
Observing what’s right in front of them.

Snow Globe Moment (May 2021)

Flitter, Flutter
Flit, fly, flop
Pink blossom rain
Purple rain.

Is that what Prince
Was referring to?

Float, fly
Flit,
Flop, Flower
Pink rain.

Spring.

I’ve never watched so many
Petals pour pink from the sky.
It’s like lying inside a snow globe.

No, I’ve never allowed myself 
The luxury of turning face
Upward, watching, listening
And in a warm-wind moment
The flutter, flitter
Thrill of pink rain.

Snow-globe moment.

Unraveling (April 2021)

It happened all at once
This letting go,
This unfurling of my cells
So tightly wound
And bound by fear. As though
If I worked harder,
Faster, more
Something would happen.

Faster.
Now.

It’s the great unraveling,
Arms flung open
Body buoyed on the 
Ocean’s rolling waves.

Fear floats out
Beyond the encasement 
Of my skin that gives me
Sovereignty to say “my and mine.”

Floating.
Drifting.
No oars.
A sea anemone unfurling, 

One last time, weeks ago,
I pushed through, powered through,
Only to feel my lungs burn, no,
To feel as through tiny shards of glass
Lined the inside of my breathing machine.

The energy escaped my body
Like a helium balloon deflating,
Leaving rest
As the only possibility.

Floating and drifting 
From moment to moment
As the only next option
To see what shore
I will arrive upon
At some future moment.

To Savor....

It’s morning time. That means my yeti cup is filled with Roast House coffee, and I’m topping off breakfast with a square of dark chocolate, which today, I decide to savor. 

I think about that word, savor, as I roll the chocolate morsel in my mouth letting the dark, bitter, sweet tastes meld together and melt on my tongue. I feel the square dissolve, get smaller with each turn and flip. I battle the urge to chew it.

The dictionary says to savor means to give oneself to the enjoyment of. 

I ponder how it’s still hard for me to slow down, how I fight the urge to flit to the next moment. Will the next moment be better? What does it promise that this moment doesn’t?

My sweet girl is teaching me to savor the moment. Big brown eyes search mine for why she doesn’t feel well. Why she has to keep going back to the vet to have another test. I walk the edge with her not knowing the answer. Only knowing I can be here now. Cup her head, stroke her back, sit with her tired body that isn’t cooperating.

The message so clear: Enjoy her now. The end is closing in; it is within sight. So, I sit with her, pet her head, lean into her 65-pound body of blond fur and hug her. She can feel me grieving ahead of time. She kisses my face, licks away the silent salty tears.

Yes, to savor. 
To give oneself fully to the moment. 
To slow down. 
To feel this moment, taste this chocolate square melt on your tongue. 
To not be ahead in the next moment, or the next or the next.

I roll the chocolate around in my mouth. It dissolves to about half its size and then I place it between my back molars and chew the rest.

To savor. 

It’s a practice.