What Do I Want to Remember?

[Day 4 of Wild Writing, inspired by William Stafford's poem "You, Reading This Poem, Be Ready".]

What do I want to remember?*
The way the earth smells, outside my door,
every morning,
fresh, like summer days when I was a child,
beckoning me, trails and beaches softly whispering;
the quality of silence in my solitude,
peaceful, full, undisturbed,
as I turn on the computer and begin,
cup of tea to my left, and all of the words in the world
to summon, choosing the select few that describe
the life I am living today, in the time of covid:
indoors, life slowed, ordinary, familiar - safe;
outdoors, enticing radiant beauty all around,
calling me forth, yet an invisible threat
lurking everywhere.

I want to remember the jays and towhees
on my balcony, feasting; the jay with the strange yodel,
who lets me know when the sunflower seeds run out;
and the chubby raccoon, stuffing herself
with both hands, that I had to shoo away,
so the landlord doesn't know I am feeding birds.
She sat back, assessing me,
the level of threat, contemplated staying,
(the seed was so delicious!)
Sadly, wishing she could stay,
lonely, missing dogs no longer alive,
I waved my arms: "Shoo!"
and she shooed.

I want to remember long sandy beaches,
stretching to forever, the smell of the sea, beloved,
the way the beach is a different hue every visit.
I want to remember trails through old growth,
 the ancient beings breathing peace,
me drinking it in, awed, respectful,
connected....listening.

I want to remember apple orchards and
leggy, laughing children when
the world and I were young:
flying kites on Knox Mountain,
bike rides, popcorn, poverty, laughter -
happiness and Making Do.

I want to remember
that courageous, terrifying leap
over the mountains to the sea in midlife,
responding to the call of the wild shores
that freed my spirit forevermore.
I want to remember the grief of leaving,
the long years of exile, the better to be grateful for
the gift of my return, in old age,
to walk the beloved shores
once more.

I want to remember a long life lived,
the many blessings,
the ways I was helped
and guided by invisible forces,
the gifts I was given, the gifts I gave,
the journey made, the price I paid,
the running from, the returning to,
the song of the Wild Woman
forever in my heart.
I want to remember the big, black wolf
who loped along wild shores with me,
who is waiting for me
at the end of the trail.
I can almost hear
his lonely wail.