Moving
by Michelle Wiegers
I find myself jealous of those who rest
quarantined inside their homes,
while I have to pack every last item I own
in order to carry it just a few blocks away.
And now as I reach around inside
this new house, I keep looking
for the things I know, certainties to hold
me up, cushion me on all sides.
How do I know that all will be well?
Because the morning sun still
warms my cheek, illuminating
small flecks of dust on my glasses
that look like layered circles of modern art.
Because the red squirrel still comes to raid
the feeders I hang, not intended for him
while the chickadee sings
his same vibrant song.
Because the ferns in my garden
I feared had not survived the move
are finally unfurling
their bright green bodies.
Because spring doesn’t know
the anxiety of uncertainty,
but declares, through her gentle unwrapping
of the world, life will come again.
(Originally appeared in The Path to Kindness, edited by James Crews)
