Oh, that wolf.
I’ve walked with her before,
known her own shadow for mine.

Never been one to run with the pack,
but I can say I know her,
have even felt her companionship
to be a comfort.

Still, when she howls at the door,
I lose all my post-modern feminist sensibility.

Translation:
I cower in terror
under the covers.

Translation:
I am not walking out that door.
No, this is not the time to make friends.

The old metaphor still stands.
My, what big teeth you have.
And I am so very small,
and my grandmother, my children,
so very fragile and helpless.

This story is so full of people,
yet there’s no one in this story but me.
So I shoulder my ax. . .

In order to make it through this story
you have to live each character
until you’ve circled back around,
seen your own shadow

and recognized
again
the wolf.

Gratitude List:
1. The wolf.  Still, she makes me quake.  Someday, I think she’ll get me.  But she keeps me moving, keeps me alive.
2. I got the job.  I can’t think of a way to say it that comes near to expressing my gratitude, my sense of things falling together as they needed to.  I will be teaching high school English at Lancaster Mennonite School, doing something I love, using the skills I was trained for, at my own alma mater.  I’ll be teaching kids from really diverse backgrounds, teaching a subject that fires me up.  I don’t have to relinquish either the poet or farmer identities.  And at its most basic it fulfills the two important elements that I was seeking: of being full-time work that fits the schedule of my family.
3. MOON.  I almost thought I could walk up the hill and take her in my arms.
4. That chilly mist out there.  Makes me feel like a hobbit.  I want to travel, to adventure.  Bring on the wolves–I’m ready!
5. Poetry.  Goodness.  Have I ever put poetry on my gratitude list?  I think it should be there every day, along with my family, along with breathing.

May we walk in Beauty!