Morning Mist on Rock Pond by author

Yesterday’s sun was released through the early morning mist on every pond I passed. The chilly overnight autumn temperatures caused ghostly shapes and patterns to rise and swirl as the sun began to rise. Made visible by evaporation, subtle swoops and vortexes breezed above the waters. Sitting by one pond, my Polartec jacket zipped up to the neck, hands tucked into the ends of my sleeves, I drifted and dissipated along with the soft wet air we breathed- the fish, birds, the trees, the fields, and I. It is September.

In NY state where I grew up and raised my daughters, school always began the Wednesday after Labor Day. In Ohio, kids have already returned to school. My older daughter is on Sabbatical from this year’s teaching at her college, so the usual school related nostalgia of fall feels cut loose for me. I ate the last bite of summer with a fresh picked peach my friends gave me, and the perfectly ripe sweet corn from the holiday menu.

It is my birthday month. As a child, given that my birthday is around the fall solstice, I never knew if I would celebrate the occasion with a warm outside party or a chilly one based on indoor games. This year, I hope to celebrate with my daughter’s family and share my cake with my grandsons. I requested my son-in-law’s carob/apple/apricot/chocolate cake from a recipe he brought with him from Bosnia. It is fruity and dense without being too rich and drips with a dark chocolate coating. Being an excellent cook who loves international cuisine, I asked also for a Japanese dinner and was offered instead a Peruvian/Japanese meal. I did not know that was a possibility and eagerly agreed.

I asked for no physical presents as experiences are what I treasure these days. May your September bring you into fall with your own sweet desires to be fulfilled.

The following is a prose poem I read recently for a Poetry Potluck we hold at Kendal.

Lunch Lessons from a Finch

We both sat down for lunch. He flew directly to a middle perch on the birdfeeder with no competitors in sight.

He ducked his head inside for a seed, expertly cracked the shell, and swallowed the naked sunflower meat. Repeat. Repeat. Now and then he kindly dropped a whole seed for the ground feeders, mammals and birds alike. He paused.

He paused. Lifting his rosy head, he sang his own house finch song. Over and over, he trilled with abandon, before he returned to feed.

I paused with him. I set my fork down on my plate, already loaded for the next bite. His syrinx is located right next to his heart. If my larynx nestled up to my heart, what would I sing for my supper?

If my larynx nestled up to my heart, what would I sing for my supper?

The first response was tuneless gratitude. I was grateful for nature’s bounty and all the human hands that brought this meal to my table. Deeper still, awareness arose out loud to know that I have everything I need to be grateful.

I have everything I need to be grateful while millions have every reason in this world to be starving, desperate, and terrified. I sang my compassion for their suffering and the knowledge that to me, they are not alone, not even in the cruel death their bodies may endure.

They are not alone.

I picked up my fork up again, and slowly chewed the rice and vegetables with care. The finch flew away, and the rest of my meal tasted like heart honey.

Cosmos and Marigolds by author