When I am thoughtless of
tomorrow, careless of
uncertainties, when I am
forgetful with memories, and
neglectful of grievances, the
sun becomes my timekeeper.
I am hinged on a great daily
patience that is teaching me to
breathe without fear.
I do not always know this grace,
but when I am possessed by it,
I rise to the day enchanted with
the ground beneath my feet,
with geese that return every spring,
with the common miracle of being
in my skin that knows the bracing
cold of mountain waters, the wry
and stalwart stand of tall grasses
bound to the plains. I am held
sure of not taking something
in that would diminish me.
And when the sun says “it is finished”
we will lean back under stars around the
fire and forgive the world of
all its troubles. I am building
three Adirondack chairs.