As For Life

As for life,
I am grateful for the winter comforter
cocooning me near the autumn window.

As for life,
I am left with memory and words
clotted with grief, knotted in my throat,
even desire’s wings, clipped.

As for life,
it has been difficult, the rending of work
and home, not able to float in a still pool,
alone, or receive comfort from the dear dog
whose brown eyes looked into mine, or sit
with others across the table and share
a bottle of wine.

As for life,
every day I put on earrings, as if something
is happening. I am not ready for death.
Mary Oliver asks if I can’t wait to be
a hummingbird. I do not want to be a
hummingbird. I have only wanted my one life,
this one chance.