A song of loves

when the light of a morning sun shimmies through the spring leaves of an elm tree
when the sound of surf moves over a patio and drowns all dialogue
when you sit down to your first coffee and lift a cover
when a woman in a burgundy suit and dark glasses carrying a package walks by
when you catch your breath at a 70’s song, tugging at a fine old memory
when the first fat drops of thunderstorm-rain hit your upturned face
when you see fox pups playing on the stoop of the old cabin, the mother looking on
when you look at a horizon and see adventure, in spite of the distance
when, after a long dry spell, comes a grey sky carrying rain
when, after days of rain, a grey sky moults to a bright blue
when trembling aspen leaves tremble
when you miss the ‘world news’ in favour of sitting in a park
when you identify a bird by its song, or hear a songbird you’ve not heard before
when a friend gives you the news that she is feeling better, and when a child heals
when a new book sheds light on an old road, and an old book, reread, reveals a new road
when, after 30 years with the same person, you find yourself still alluringly in love
when you know, despite your stumbling, your children not only love you, but like you
when you’re coaxed back to the chords and you find you can still sing harmony
when, for a moment or more, your mind gives up its obsessions, and you wander
       in a pure, unchosen, same-yet-different world—and by this, you change a little
when burdens, long borne, have spent their worst, and you begin to see the gift in them
       —resilience, endurance, ordinary, steady, day to day courage.
when you stand under a full moon, feel her light strike your shoulder,
       and know you’ve been knighted