fall into astonishment
note to self

as you age into an
old woman, bowed
with wizened skin
and spiky hair, the
path ahead divides—
you can sink toward
despair or fall into
astonishment

choose awe!
notice it far and near
your son’s wild curls
lined a raven’s nest
soft for the baby birds
a dule of doves
mill the soil for seed
the mare knows to
lick her newborn foal—

marvels everywhere

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.