Monday, January 26, 2026

January Poem, 2026

Things I still love today

Toddlers, dogs, and other slobbery things
The way the sun comes from the south through leafless trees
turns the room to gold, makes sleeping dogs glow, mug-steam glimmer
My red wool coat, binoculars, a red-shouldered hawk on the wire, puffed up in the cold, so ruddy!
Bluebirds!
Forest racket- tufted titmouse, chickadee, dripping snowmelt, crunching ice, sudden cry- there is a yellow daffodil in the woods, yes, in January.
Moss, and pearly mushrooms on a log the size of a baby's fingernails
Cedar sapling sprouting from an ancient stump, green on white snow
Kindness.
My father's Bible, marked up, words underlined on a morning perhaps three decades ago at 6 am, looking, looking, for God's justice in the world-
Prayers I can still grasp in my hand and hear, roaring, made of true materials, 
an eternal cry-
no matter all the doubts that came after and in between.
Last but not least, you, whose heart I long to hold in golden fingers and breathe life, love, upon.





No comments:

Post a Comment