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.