Writing
Alchemy
-for Seth
This morning. Today. Now.
I wake up to the bright light of my home and take the five scoops of blackberries
I have just picked from their pokey wayward canes (canes that grew
from the dying friend’s then generosity and now sprout a legacy that bears the fruit of our connection) and placed them in the favorite flour colored bowl
with its soft ceramic ribs that hold my hands as much as I hold it
And I pour these jewel toned berries into a shining pot and transmute them to jam
Glossy and burbling and reflecting the light that makes me look around the space that is my home to find its source and say aloud
Is this my life?
Is all this soft goodness really here for my nourishment, my safekeeping?
Sometimes you can make more sweetness from what is already sweet
Is this not what cherishing means?
Not to make lemonade from lemons but to soak in every last drop
of summer, of a friend's goodness, of a soulful and sturdy home,
of a life capable of reflecting the way it grows both in complexity and tenderness with every rising and setting of sun.