Mama Says Om - Acceptance

at sunrise on winter days,
my trail through new fallen snow —
every footfall a waxing moon

muffled footsteps rise
through snow-drowned spruces —
heartbeats in darkness

goldenrod and milkweed,
great spruces weighted under snow —
all nod in early greeting

ghost choirs of summer grosbeaks
sing above my head — icicles
form along rooflines as I pass

winter rounds this village, smoothing
contours of house and street alike —
spinning deserts out of snow

in morning softness, I know myself
at last — perfect, still and complete,
nothing abandoned or left behind.

Acceptance: it means looking at the turning seasons in this chill northern place and taking it all within, embracing everything with clear eyes and an open heart: every shard of sunlight and cavorting moonbeam — every cloud, tree and noctilucent darkness — every blizzard, monsoon and drenching rainfall — every whirling dust mote, feathery drift and snow-draped branch — each warty pod and gossamer drift of milkweed silk.

Mug of coffee in hand this morning, I trace the exuberant flowing curves of frost and ice forming on the kitchen window and gaze at the patterns like a rapt toddler or a retriever puppy seeing the world for the first time. I muse about the myriad wonders out on my windswept hill and quiet woods in the Lanark Highlands, and I know this is where I should be. I am meant to accept this realm and embrace it without reservation.

How do we go about conserving this vast wealth, I wonder. How do we hold this earthy abundance and grandeur safe for our children and for their children, for all those who will take the trail when we have gone on ahead and are kicking up our heels somewhere else?

Written for the lovely mamas at Mama Says Om.