Red admiral - Sarah Durrand

Lemons, lemons, lemons, LEMONS,
Was it this time last year I was replete with lemons?
Because as time marches on, so produces this tree,
and it only occurred to me tonight, after three years of tending,
that maybe I’m reaping the work I sew.

It never feels earned, to me;
it feels happenstance,
more like a reward not for
being or doing so,
but for listening,
intuitively,
carefully.

Luck requires sacredness
(which requires a nicer word, sacracy).
I’ve learned you must ask a butterfly to beat the clouds away
and nod to the crows when you see them,
watch the swallows dive from not any patch of grass,
but the exact one small flowers coaxed you to -
understand they love the sun more than you ever will,
ask about cardinals the second you think to,
lay wildflowers on bloated rodents.
And finally, have faith to take off your glasses
and look into the eclipse,
that great black hole in the sky.

*

It’s rare to know you’re exactly where you should be.
Bring lemonade everywhere you go and give away all you can.
Tell your family it will be okay,
but don’t tell them how you know.
Your life always changes in three minutes or less.