Today I wonder
What is it that orients my African self
In this North American place?
That makes my insides breath and rest
That makes me feel firmly grounded
and not spinning fast in secret places?
That quiets my old companion of fear
As she gets dressed for the day?
The morning air cool on my cheeks as I step outside.
The patch of yellow pansies.
I actually envision my father-in-law
On hands and knees
Hands in soil
Preparing for our arrival
With a dozen bright yellow pansy faces of welcome.
In silent chorus.
The Fuscia pink azaleas, lining the garden
Donning their glad rags of Spring.
The rusty red Japanese Maple
Surely too classy and elegant
For keeping company with the likes of us.
That’s a lot of beauty to miss
For being out of focus,
Caught up in concentric circles of distraction.
Wondering where I fit in.
A few minutes outside
and my compass finds North.
Where I fit in is presence with the now.
Let the day begin.