I am eagerly awaiting spring. Tired of winter. Bemoaning the same old brown and gray colors. Wanting to take pictures outdoors but not quite enough to brave the cold. Plotting the grid for flowers in the raised bed. Planning small summer travels. Dreaming of the fresh produce from the community-supported-agriculture program we joined. Whining about the here and now. As so often happens, poetry is the force that sets me right. Delivered to my Inbox from the kind Janice Falls, this heart poem, Here by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer.
“Some gifts come only
when we stay in one place,
come only when we are alone,
come only when we stop praying
to be somewhere else and instead
pray to be here.”
—Here, Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
