Not Looking for Trouble
I grabbed up a clump of water weed
and got a fishhook stabbed into my
thumb. While photographing my
Peonies, I stepped on a feeding bee.
These smallish things hurt mightily,
the pain lasting longer than my
patience and yet, the good news is,
I’ve dropped the “Why is it always me?”
which I grew up with. Things happen.
The fox wrecked a big swath of garden.
Laid down in it, pulled day lilies out, ate
here and there (they will, in a pinch, to
go with their rodent meal), and I was mad
about it but I move on to damage control,
more quickly than I ever managed.
You waste a lot of time sitting in your own stew
and nothing comes of it. More of the same un-
productive stinking, useless to you and everyone.
Do something revolutionary. Think differently.
Feel, but don’t get stuck there.
A friend gave us a wooden animal, like a cheetah,
and I have put it in the messed up place, over the
beleaguered never to rise day lilies as a testament
to whimsy. As a warning to intruders. As a sentinel
of protection. As a message to the Universe. Your
best shot isn’t enough to slow me down. Teach me
to use everything for the good of growth, to learn
and not grumble. To fail and not despair. To get
angry but not get even. Teach me a greater love.
LBM 6/7/2023
