I'm not getting any younger,
not getting any trimmer, or smarter,
or richer this morning,
just getting more wonderful
thanks to the Swainson's Thrush
who finally came home to the lilac
now that it's Summer.
And thanks to the tiny green frog
in my geranium, whose songs
begin at midnight.
And to a swollen gardenia bud
on the hopeless gnarl of sticks
I threw away last Fall
in their black plastic pot.
One might say it has come
"back to life," but really,
what never leaves cannot come home.
It's only our attention that goes
and comes back, not the river
of stars gushing through these twigs
of all things green...
What's important this morning
is neither to be young nor old,
rich nor poor, nor a wise one, nor a fool,
but to be wonderful.