A friend requested “I am from” poems for her birthday. This is mine.
Plants and animals live in peaceful concord with the movement of the days and seasons, and I doubt that time stresses them out. They just live inside it. I, on the other hand, speak as if I were able to use time, make time, kill time, and even save time. Maybe time threatens me. At Sky Farm, I took an afternoon to reflect on the past year by looking back through my calendar. I faced a window that opened onto a wide green meadow, oak trees, and a denser forested area about 50 yards up the hill. A flock of wild turkeys took dust baths and rested in the long grass with their heads poking up. A window to my left let in a warm, gentle cross-breeze that brought me the smell of growing things. But! during my twenty minute march through my calendar, I didn’t once look up at or listen to or smile at […]