Stuck Here
Sitting on the weathered
front porch and watching
the placid lake splayed
before me in splendor and
the dense, heady evergreens
towering heavenward, I hear
the wild geese honking and
smell the pine. The morning
sun scrubs my face with
light—the kind that seeps
to the bones and provides
a certain depth of
beauty and singular
nourishment.
My feet are fitted for
shoes ready for
the health benefit of
walking and my mind
embraces the discipline,
but I am stuck here on the
still water’s comfort,
gleaming clear and blue,
the sunshine penetrating
the shadowy parts of me.
I think I’ll just sit here, soaking,
healing, until I’m full. This
too is discipline
©Bonnie Saul Wilks
Lake City, Colorado
Bonnie my dear. Your poetry always speaks life. When I read this, I felt as though I was sitting on your porch. Thank you. Much love! Be blessed!