Some Time Ago
There was once a need to scavenge every day for food, to fetch water, to gather firewood.
There was once a need to spend hours tending to the fields, tending to the animals, mending the clothes, making the candles.
There was once a time when doing the laundry meant spending hours by the wash basin or the river.
In some parts of the world, and in some chosen lifestyles, there still is. But in the life that I live, with as many things as there are that seemingly need to get done every day, there is still plenty of free time, which is time that needs to be filled in some other way.
I sometimes wonder, Why am I trying to write one short poem a day for a year? What is the purpose?
And the best explanation I can come up with is, Why not?
is being built piece by piece,
as my life unfolds.
on my land, always the same,
always new—this life.
flies in perfect unison.
A lone hawk watches.
we kissed goodbye at the door
like we’d meet again.
I fell asleep while drinking
a cup of coffee.
your hand seemed to hold the sun
so it wouldn’t set.
lesson today, letting go
is a part of life.
I look at my son, watching
the game from the bench.