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.