Sunday, November 25, 2018

The Late Years Two

Backyard zinnias 2014

The Late Years Two  November 11, 2018

Today the frost comes down, plummeting
to sunrise. Problems, when they arrive,
are magnified. I send thought messages
when none come by phone or email, but
I don’t think they’re listening. So many
people are preoccupied with the now. I
let it make me stumble, too. Take the 
long look, take comfort where it’s
offered, let go worry. I slept well. The
woodstove’s fire is laid. I’m swaddled
in warm clothes and a soft blanket.
I fell but didn’t even bruise myself.
I picked zinnias, and my son picked
lemon balm, which he calls tea before
the cold killed. Winter is announced,
but it’s not severe. The sun will lift
the air into the fifties, and it will beat
on the back door and warm the house.
Mrs. Crawley always said, “It’s no good 
to worry. Turn it over to God.” God for 
me is the grain of the universe. Let it 
go. Do what you can. That’s always 
enough. You’ve known that a long time.

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