through the cracks of the day,
tumble between the tasks,
blown by an ill wind of complaint,
if I thought I might be discouraged
by its unrelenting howl,
there is always the ground
There is always the intense
springing of life, through the soil,
through the grass, through my feet.
There is always the recognition
of how great the "we"
of all life, how layered and irrepressible
it is, how it sings in the deer's taste of grass,
in the flash of a bluebird's wing,
how it rests in my breath
while the day's lullabies
prepare a place for me.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 11, 2021
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