Being Wise Four February 28, 2021
Some days aren’t so cold. We leave
the back door open in the afternoon
for the sun to beat on the storm door.
The volunteer peach tree has buds.
Daffodils rise in the front and in the
flower garden. Inside, my small orchid
thrusts out its tiny bloom stalks.
Tomorrow March arrives. I look at
the corner where my friend sat amid
a chaotic bunching up of clothes.
The fuscia in the window keeps
throwing up its red petals. She
brought us so many sad stories
of children in despair, lost and
maybe never found. I’ve lived here
quietly, at peace, glad for what I’ve
done in my life, for the obstacles
I’ve outwitted, the miles I’ve
traveled, the people I’ve loved and
been loved by. I wouldn’t change a thing.