All Tuckered Out

Born some time ago, physical strength not what it was, 

I can still help the cause by worrying.  

I got awfully tired this week. 

Note to self:  “With cycles and circles we must abide.”  

And so it’s Sunday again, 

and I thought to abide by sitting outside 

in the ‘hush of nature newly born.’ 

Made the mistake of bringing the newspaper with me. 

Then, as if to counter the killing headlines, the usual suspects began to appear. 

I had nothing to give them—not worry, not wisdom, not even a smile.

But smiles came:

Scruffy mocker, singing to himself.

Cardinal family, conferencing in the bottlebrush.

Carolina chickadees, unruffled at my close proximity to their feeder.

Jays zipping overhead.

Flash of woodpecker, then a long beak just visible.

Boisterous wren-song, glimpse of a narrow secretive head.

Tentative tail-wag of a white-wing.

Mystery warbler, evoking faint stir to go get the bird book.

Call it dereliction, but I did not go get the bird book.

“And in my hour of darkness She is standing right in front of me

Speaking words of wisdom, let it be”

I thought of baby Shep, pulling up, practicing his scrunched up smile and royal wave, of his angel sister who got in trouble for throwing a plastic ball at his head—she is after all only two—and did she cry because she was corrected, or because she’s connected?  May we all grow in wisdom and grace. God bless us, every one.