Today I wrapped a few Christmas packages in silver snowflaked paper, with neat folds pressed on the boxes. I went for a run on the hills, with the sharp pain in my calf reminding me that I cannot force myself back into my lithe and limber sixteen year old body in under a month’s time, or ever perhaps. I tucked my knees up under myself on the sofa and made a list of things yet to be done. I listened with rapture as my daughter told me about her first brave jump into the deep, deep end of the pool. I tossed my dirty socks to mingle and dance with my husband’s in the washing machine. I pared away the bruised bits of a Braeburn before I arranged the slices on a white porcelain plate.
It didn’t feel like drudgery. I was content. It all reminded me of this poem I tucked away many years ago.
I have spread wet linen
On lavender bushes,
I have swept rose petals
From a garden walk.
I have labeled jars of raspberry jam,
I have baked a sunshine cake;
I have embroidered a yellow duck
On a small blue frock.
I have polished andirons,
Dusted the highboy,
Cut sweet peas for a black bowl,
Wound the tall clock,
Pleated a lace ruffle …
I have lived a poem
Have you lived a poem today?
Copyright (c) 2014 Kristen M. Ploetz