Unexpected

woolen orange/brown scarf 

pulled up over my nose, 

hood tightened over the woolen toque pulled low over my ears. 

woolen mittens layered over thin gloves

zipped up, buttoned up, bundled up 

homeward into a wind ~ thin and cold 

glad I was dressed warmly 

for my walk of fifteen minutes

from a distance I saw them

they looked like leaves 

left over from the fall,

but ~ bundled in their own feathery coats,

tiny tail feathers gave them away

a small flock of grey/brown sparrows 

~ tails to the wind

an unexpected reminder of life in the cold.

“The unexpected is what makes life possible.”

~ Ursula K.LeGuin, the Left Hand of Darkness

It is Fitting

Solitude midst the pandemic 

with restricted movements,

fear of infection kept at bay 

from a distance ~

from unknown crowds ~

even one or two ~

still taking risks  

in the grocery store

in a taxi

on the bus

walking in the park

when I am so uncertain 

but still I keep writing 

feeling the space 

trying to find the right fit 

in my own home ~ just me ~

no longer skirting the fray and fringes of life 

~ tired of the skirting ~ 

lost in it’s folds, 

blinded by the draperies I’ve hidden behind

always wanting more 

not knowing what ‘more’ is 

until here I am fitting, sitting, writing

at my kitchen table knowing life is abundant.

My cup overflows and I am grateful. 

Not for the pandemic that kills ~

but for the space it has foisted upon me 

“Make the most of yourself….for that is all there is of you.”

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

In the Pauses......

In the pauses - 

when I have to wait - 

when I have little thoughts -  

put behind the gate - 

of my mind:

‘I’ll do it later’ - 

‘I will remember...’ - 

brilliant orange or lime green 

sticky notes remind me of 

my thought - no drifting away 

to remember tomorrow 

or next week

or never

when it’s too late 

because more life has 

cropped up to be played 

afraid I’ll miss something 

my mother said 

but I miss so many things - 

these thoughts don’t stick 

unless 

they are lime green or brilliant orange

and stick to the table in front of me.

“Where does a thought go when it’s forgotten?”

~ Sigmund Freud