I Spy My Wandering Eye
Always looking at what’s not mine. Sizing up the trees in other yards. The babies in other arms. The skin on other bones. Finding it difficult, though healthy, to enlarge the focus. Look at the planet! Sky high above, and soil well enough to support Aspen and Oak. Clouds that build up and spread out, dropping rain, snow, and hail. I am a resident of this Earth. Born of the stars! Connected to all others. A practicing agent of gratitude. A seeker of self-compassion. Onward, every day, and glad for chance after chance.