It’s a delicate thing, this teaching I’ve done
Encouraging students to reach for the sun
Knowing that reach might singe their wings.
I dare put myself right in front, on the line
Sharing a risk that is not only mine
Trusting the leap will not end with a fall.
After the class, when they’re all back home
I’m writing about all of this in a poem and
Waiting for word that they’ve used what I taught.
I walk to the kitchen to reorganize
My purse after a long trip
And find it open.
As I reach in to put the cell charger in place
I notice extra space.
Down the stairs to the basement
Quickly to the garage to check the car.
Back up the stairs to the living room
Where I’ve left my carry on.
I root through the pockets quickly but
Back to the kitchen to agonize over choices
No sense calling the airport at midnight.
Should I call the credit card companies?
I go up to the bedroom thinking about the hassle of
I brush my teeth, thinking about the moment of loss.
Logic sends me downstairs to empty the carry on
Where I’d put the purse before boarding and taken it out.
I remove scarf, power splitter, snacks, and in the bottom
I sleep late, but she rises with the sun
Stumbles across the floor, rustles loudly
Forgets to be careful closing the door
Asks whether she’s awakened me.
The aroma of coffee wafts through the air.
“Shall I bring you a cup before I go,
Or will you get it yourself?”
“You’re so good to me” I say.
I watch our prayer flags flutter in the breeze
Al l colors as they wave so cheerfully
A harbinger of greens and meat and cheese
A meal we’ll eat together mindfully
And when the meal is done and we’re at ease
We’ll sing a song together, gratefully.
A meal, a song and stories shared with friends
Is certainly a moment God intends