Today, I knew
I could leave this house, but
I could never give up being so close
to the lake path, where I’ve walked
with loved companions, loved canines
and myself for 45 years.
The path and a significant garden
adjacent to it anchor me there.
Captivated by the rhythm of the seasons:
Summer’s azure skies, lush greens, water lilies,
Autumn’s golden colors rustling in winds
heralding snow goose, and swan migration,
Winter’s stark whiteness against
early morning skies of indigo blue,
February’s fiery sunsets,
dogwood red, first color of Spring,
cerulean lake reopening,
bugle calls of returning cranes…
In and out of reality,
from before dawn till after sunset,
sublime encounters beyond measure,
sighting egrets, herons, eagles, all
watched over by towering cottonwoods.
The lake path is home and belonging,
affirming the life I carry,
providing solace, safety, hope.
MCB – Clay Hill
April 12, 2025
Already Here – For a long time, I thought I was on a wait list for a muse of my own, that the few visitations I’d received were due to cancellations. As it turned out my muse, was here all along, already urging me to write, and to recognize my words as poetry. I thank all the great poets who’ve written about their muses. In reading their words, I’ve learned the importance of showing up for the writing and trusting the promise of inspiration when it shows up for me.