What it is to wander home at dusk
in early spring.
To walk quickly, at first
as is one’s habit
up that stinking hill;
the randy call of birds
a stream of honey to the ears.
Then suddenly to feel these feet
attached to these legs
in contact with this ground
and to feel one’s pace
slow
right
down.
To feel the stillness of the air;
inhale the promise of an unfolding season;
track the fast fluttering of
a moth’s cream wings in the fading light
daffodils bowing all the while at one’s feet.
And finally to feel
the chest space swell
as a thousand springtime miracles
enter into the heart.
What it is to wander home at dusk
in early spring.
Love and courage,
Leah
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