Jacquelyn Markham

Stan’s homemade bread and Grandma’s wooden spoon

The doorbell woke me this morning after a sleepless night.

I began jangled, but I centered myself on the morning’s pleasures: fresh orange juice in a cut glass goblet, toast from Rosemary bread made by my love, a dollop of yogurt in a rose-colored cup from Portugal, a marigold and zinnia from my summer garden in a tiny vase, my cats romping in the almost cool morning, a deep purple morning glory winding ’round the okra that needs to be pulled, a chickadee in the zinnias. 

Let the phones ring! I won’t hear them.  It’s only noon and the phones have been ringing nonstop.  I just turned them off.  I won’t let the frantic Monday atmosphere throw off my balance. It’s Autumn Equinox after all: the day of perfect balance.

The geese fly overhead–low.  I see them in their beautiful pattern of flight.  I hear their triumphant cries. I feel their joie de vivre!  They worry not, but take flight and look down at the world from the skies.

Joy: fresh organge juice in a cut glass and a poem to celebrate the return of the geese.

The Geese Have Come Back

The geese have come back

to the dark pond beyond the kitchen window

since then

my heart opened

my body pushed out of the cocoon

 

The geese have come back

to the sun filled tidal creek

across the road

since then

my rhythms ebb and flow

with wingbeat and primal sounds

 

Sometimes they wake me with their triumphant cries

Sometimes they give me rest

 

The geese have come back

Now, I return to myself

 

            Jacquelyn Markham

            September 22, 2008