If It Would Be

If it would be in winter,

wrap me up in fleece or

woven blanket and 

cover me with hat and 

gloves and place me 

on the step in a chair 

facing the sun-rise 

as it snows profusely.

 

And if it would be in spring,

make me gently, toasty warm

and place me 

in that same chair, 

in the garden of daffodils 

and hyacinths,

facing the noon day sun,

warm smells rising-up.

 

And if it would be in summer,

place me in shorts no socks 

with a T-shirt and a favorite

fishing cap - in the full-sun,

in my garden of mints,

close enough to my hive 

that I can watch the bees 

and hear their gentle buzzing

and genuine love of pollen

and life’s nectar.

 

And if it would be in fall,

take me yet again to the sun-rise, 

but now along the banks

of my Del-a-ware.

Place me there amid gold

and burgundy sassafras, and 

pluck a tender sassafras 

sapling from the ground 

and lay it in my hands 

upon my blanketed lap,

that I may smell its rich aroma 

and think of dirt and loam.

 

No matter the scene or the 

season, the chair must be of 

sumptuous wood - perhaps a

honey-toned cherry, of shaker 

style with woven reeds upon 

its seat.  If there could be one 

with arms, all the better to hold 

my weakening frame. But if not, 

bundle me secure with fleece

or a woven blanket of beauty and

color - much as would come

from an Appalachian holler which

rolls itself out into hills.

 

I have witnessed 

a thousand,

thousand leavings, 

and know that these

would be my four

simple guided wishes

one for each season

of the earth.

 

And if, 

if you are able

and strong enough 

to pull up chair 

and sit with me, 

knee to knee, 

I would be

touched and adoring at

our time of softly sitting

in THE MYSTERY and

THE STILLNESS, 

wrapped

in precious wonder 

 

and in awe.