this raw, wild offering

rain sluices sideways
wind rips leaves
from trees
birds grip branches
hunker down

can I meet whatever
comes to visit?
illness, obstacle,
unspeakable joy
it might move in, get
comfy on the couch

let me be
a meadowlark
puffed up
against the chill
ready to sing when
the sun comes out

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.