I Am Ready

Michael Kroth • June 7, 2021

The sun peeks through leaves

Her bright, white, backlight subdued

Her power hidden.

(Haiku written 6-4-21)

 

Thank you:


For sunshine through golden leaves

 For cool air preceding toasty-warm days

 For two puppies prowling the yard

For Lana’s recovering health.


(Gratitude Journal Entry, 5-30-21)




I am ready.


I am ready for lazy days on my back porch with just a book and something to write on. Something cool to drink. A snack, but of course.


I am ready.


I am ready to visit my son Shane and his family in Portland. To hug them all. To go to breakfast with him and to shoot the wit.


I am ready.


I am ready for a slow, otiose stroll through the Idaho Botanical Garden with my friends Kevin and Carol. Serving no purpose, yet serving every purpose.


I am ready.


I am ready to create. A poem. A song. An essay. A (quite humble) drawing. An idea. More.


I am ready.


To take long drives with my windows open, car dancing, singing as loud as I can, laughing.


I am ready.


I am ready to spend time at a monastery. A few days dedicated to contemplation and inner work.


I am ready.


I am ready for hamburgers on the grill, a beer in my hand, Lana and Piper and Grayson chatting, with two puppies kicking around, as the evening sun begins to slip away.


I am ready.


I am ready for day-long hiking trips with Vince to the mountain cool, the wild flowers, a lake to sit beside while taking a rest.


I am ready.


I am ready for getting together with Dave and Valerie and Rick and Rosemary and all the guitar-night gang, playing guitars (well, I play a kazoo), and talking about literature and life.


I am ready.


I am ready to go fishing with my friend Louie, as unlikely it is that an actual fish will be caught.


I am ready.


I am ready for whole days with no meetings, no commitments, no phone calls.


I am ready.


I am ready for summer.


Thank you for:


That bird to my right and the one to my left,

singing over the din of the traffic on Eagle Road.

Thank you for our backyard, which brings me joy each day.


(Gratitude Journal Entry, 6-2-21)


Freshly mown grass clips

A lawn marked by mower tread

My nose smells summer

(Haiku written 5-31-21)

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