Oh, that wolf.
I’ve walked with her before,
known her own shadow for mine.
Never been one to run with the pack,
but I can say I know her,
have even felt her companionship
to be a comfort.
Still, when she howls at the door,
I lose all my post-modern feminist sensibility.
I cower in terror
under the covers.
I am not walking out that door.
No, this is not the time to make friends.
The old metaphor still stands.
My, what big teeth you have.
And I am so very small,
and my grandmother, my children,
so very fragile and helpless.
This story is so full of people,
yet there’s no one in this story but me.
So I shoulder my ax. . .
In order to make it through this story
you have to live each character
until you’ve circled back around,
seen your own shadow
1. The wolf. Still, she makes me quake. Someday, I think she’ll get me. But she keeps me moving, keeps me alive.
2. I got the job. I can’t think of a way to say it that comes near to expressing my gratitude, my sense of things falling together as they needed to. I will be teaching high school English at Lancaster Mennonite School, doing something I love, using the skills I was trained for, at my own alma mater. I’ll be teaching kids from really diverse backgrounds, teaching a subject that fires me up. I don’t have to relinquish either the poet or farmer identities. And at its most basic it fulfills the two important elements that I was seeking: of being full-time work that fits the schedule of my family.
3. MOON. I almost thought I could walk up the hill and take her in my arms.
4. That chilly mist out there. Makes me feel like a hobbit. I want to travel, to adventure. Bring on the wolves–I’m ready!
5. Poetry. Goodness. Have I ever put poetry on my gratitude list? I think it should be there every day, along with my family, along with breathing.
May we walk in Beauty!