Not all journeys require leaving the house.
Just this morning, I followed the hummingbird
as it circled the feeder, then flew to the flowerbed
and slipped its long beak into red nasturtiums.
And last night I wandered the garden rows,
pulling long carrots and thick round beets,
attending to the slow journey of ripening.
And all summer I follow the thin trail of loss,
how it leads me from one sorrow to another
my heart breaking open and then more open
then impossibly more open.
And all this sheltered summer, I navigate moments of beauty—
when I laugh at dinner until I fall off my chair,
mornings when the river runs startlingly clear,
the blue of larkspur, double rainbow over the drive,
the tender silence inside the shouting—
follow these moments like cairns in the wilderness,
that lead always to exactly where I am.
-Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
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