Every blade of grass has an angel that bends over it
and whispers, “Grow! Grow!”
–The Talmud

Me, I will whisper to the angel,
I will read poetry to  the angel,
I will shout and dance and sing for the angel
who guards that little blade of grass.

And you.  You guard your precious and oh-so-tender heart,
you take that one breath, then this one, then the next.
One step, one step, one step.

No matter what the future holds,
we will know–
you, me, the angel–
that light entered this holy space,
that we knew what rested there.

Gratitude List:
1.  How a little change revitalizes a room.  How that’s true of other things, too.  Tweak, tweak.
2.   Okay: brandy, ginger, honey, garlic, elderberry, menthol.
3.  Dreams and poems.  Poems which are dreams.  Dreams which are poems.
4.  Breathing deeply into those tree roots, those deltas, those nebulae inside the lungs.
5.  We have inner capacities to meet trouble as it comes.  How you show me this.  And you.  Even when you don’t feel like you are being brave or strong or patient or wise.   I am grateful for the tender ways you share your journey.  I am honored and strengthened to witness.

With Beauty all around me, may I walk

I know I have already posted a Gratitude List for today, but,

MONARCH!  I finally saw one today.

I have been feeling weary and depressed about the news of monarch decline, worried that someday I will be telling my children, “Remember the orange butterflies?  The monarchs?  You saw those before they became extinct.”  The word is bad.  Pesticides and herbicides here in the US coupled with deforestation in their wintering grounds in Mexico are depleting the populations at an alarming rate.

And part of me has been feeling hopeful, too, like Linus waiting for the Great Pumpkin to appear.  Like maybe I can be sincere enough and hopeful enough that they will at least appear here in this place, lay eggs, grow fat and healthy on our organic nectars, and develop strength for the next generation to journey south.  And one appeared today in the milkweed patch that we keep for their welcome.

She is female, of course.  I don’t know that for a fact, but I am willing it to be true, so that she will lay as many eggs as her little body can manage.  And I will tend them with hopeful energy.

This is not the one I saw today.

1. The boys playing together happily. (Thanks, Sandra, for the new Legos!)
2. A shift in the work: today poem-a-day becomes Prepare the Chapbook. Yay, editing!
3. Winter vegetables.
4. Good neighbors.
5. Not giving up even when you think it’s hopeless–see sweet Darius Donkey, below. He was supposed to become a horse, but his proportions were all wrong. I was going to throw him away, but Barbara said I should at least put in the stuffing and see what happens. I love Darius.