Bright as Birth

Eleven in the morning on a Sunday
and I have been alive
for 77 years plus some.
Is this the hour I came for?
Is this the perfect sip of good black tea?
Perhaps this is the bird I came to hear,
maybe, my body is arrived
to smell the jasmine
wafting rich across my patio.
What do I touch? These keys beneath my fingers
unlock the words of my heart.
Perhaps I am alive
for seeing the crimson rose

proud in a bottle of blue
next to the bowl of fresh fat  fruit.
Each of these could be
the final moment, bright as birth.
Any one of these might be
my avenue to slide to larger life,
my means of flight from what is physical.
I shall not miss my good black tea,
the sound of birdsong, smell of jasmine.
But relishing now, I think I shall be grateful then.
I think I shall remember well the earthy joy,
the gift of body alive in the arms
of the body of a living planet.

©Susa Silvermarie 2024