Brave New Day

My blood runs thick this morning
a heaviness wraps around my joints --
and it greets me sheepishly, like an uninvited guest
returned for a longer stay.

My drug of choice… hot coffee
with milk and white sugar… is not enough
to awaken my inner workings.

My mind anticipates a thaw later in the day, when
joints will move easily -- though creaking -- and
blood will pump like oil to lubricate my extremities.

So, this morning's walk is slow and deliberate, as
dog strains ahead, then stops to
breathe in reminders of passersby.
He marks the spot.

Beside the pond, a branch accepts heron graciously,
as indigo mirror perfectly echos the vignette.
Cattle singing over breakfast in the farm yard
invite me to linger, feel their song.

To the south heavy clouds are parting and
blue is there, with it sun on Okanagan Mountain.
All this is enough to draw me on, and

keep my leaden feet upon the path,
enough to hope for sunshine
and for hope itself --

On this brave new day.

Lesley-Anne Evans
Oct. 15, 2009

Outside the door

Ancient history, I thought,
what's done is done --
on to new things and a fresh start.

But, it shadowed me
lurked in dark corners.
Peered, with bloodshot eyes into
conversations sprinkled with
insinuations.

I realized, after a time,
that hurt cannot stay outside the door.
It must come in,
sit down,
and acquaint itself

… with grace.

Lesley-Anne Evans
2009