February 29
YARD BOAT
Early in my life, I lived in a gated yacht club, the canal passing in front of my home. I had no boat. I didn’t know how to sail. I had not a thought of learning.
In later years, I learned to sail. I covered the water in choppy tacks and prayed for safe returns to shore. Those were the years with a yard boat. Covered in a tarp, the blue sided craft sat dry, the sun and wind taking their toll. The vessel stayed on the trailer waiting to be towed to the reservoir where it would fill, water leaking in from every joint; I would bail and sail with all my heart.
Timing has never been my strong suit; rare are the times when all the ingredients come together in my life. I have used this as an excuse to feel like a failure. I have used it to blame and dismiss God. I have used it to avoid pursuit of opportunities. I have averted my attention from the satisfactions of all the pieces in my life. Living on the water is a pleasure, and stolen moments, tacking in the basin of round valley, an equal joy. Happiness with what I have makes more a surprise, not a necessity.
Allow yourself private joy and public sorrow then reverse it.
*
Pucker Up
The gifts I never expected,
never knew I needed,
never imagined wanting,
arrive wrapped in fretful apprehension
more often than not.
“Who knew?” I ask myself
standing swathed in a skin
I never realized I owned.
My identity has been handed to me
an article at a time,
each item less likely than the last.
Do they fit, yes of course,
fit as if they were made for me,
fit because they are me.
My inability to recognize myself
is a stumbling block;
my willingness to try is my salvation.
Though there are times when
a kiss is just a kiss,
there are other times when a kiss
can change the whole world.
|