2023 burned through my life like the wildfires that raged through my province,
that burned the earth around me as I stood at the window,
looking into the wall of smoke.
Dry lightening torched the forests,
the trees candlelighting in the night as we sat on our deck
and the ash rained down around us.
Watching the show across the lake
as one tree after another after another after another
blew up like birthday candles on a giant cake.
Like sparklers from heaven.
I turn to face tomorrow,
to face the year we’ve been dropped into.
I turn to face tomorrow,
but even that is too far away,
too far away from where I want to live.
The NOW I want to inhabit.
Tomorrow I may be dead.
Tomorrow I may turn to ash myself.
But today, today, this moment, I’m alive.
Today I whisper whisper whisper into my wee grandbaby’s ears
and let her play with my hand that dangles above her,
her tiny hands reaching for my dancing fingers.
She – she is my tomorrow.
And what if I could let my days line up
one after the other like stepping stones?
What if I remembered what it was like to play hopscotch,
to jump to whatever square my smooth stone landed in?
Or what if I pretended to be a tree?
Maybe a weeping willow tree with branches
that blow in the wind and roots that spread wide?
Maybe an oak tree with roots that grow
deep, deep, deep into the earth –
with the gentle patience for slow growth.
Maybe that’s what I yearn for this year.
Patience, allowance, acceptance for what is.
For whatever comes my way.
And maybe I can nurture the seeds I’ve already planted,
remembering that germination sometimes takes time.
That sometimes the roots grow deep before the shoots appear.
Maybe I can remember that even as I reach for the stars,
I’m burrowing down into the earth.
That we are all aspens,
holding hands beneath the soil.
And maybe it’s enough to simply be the hand with fingers
that dance above a tired baby.
Maybe it’s enough to simply BE.
Optimystical 
Lovely!!