Where I Wonder
This December day that feels like March or April
Beckons me down to my old thoughtful spot
To the bench on the hill above the lake
Where I have discovered poems waiting for me
Behind me, the oaks are alive
With a red-winged blackbird raucous
Below me, a solitary doe grazes the tender
Emerald green left where the waters receded
"Hello, deer!" I call out to her, waving
She looks up, dewdrop eyes and ears
Like petals turned toward me curiously
A mariposa lily blooming toward my light
I feel the woodpecker’s fervent knock inside my ribcage
And the everywhere croak of a single unseen frog
Is the creak of a door I never meant to close
Slowly opening again, letting it all back in
The moss on my heart is cool in the winter sun
The lace lichen holds my dreams among the trees
And there is a brand new poem waiting for me
"Hello, dear," I say again, and this time I am sincere.
Copyright © Ina Goodling | Year Posted 2024
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