It is lovely indeed, it is lovely indeed,
I, I am the sacred works of the earth.
—Navajo origin legend, “Song of the Earth Spirit”
I’d stopped even remembering
it was something I wanted
to do, to see queen’s crown again.
Who could explain why
these things sometimes
grab us—why we wish to encounter
a certain flower in the mountains
or to hear once more a haunting tune
we cannot name and so cannot
locate again. And so, as I walk
through the alpine meadow
wet with the monsoonal rains,
so much pleasure comes
in stumbling upon the rounded rose
blossoms atop thick green stalks.
First one, then another, then dozens—
a profusion of late summer pink.
And though I am not yet a crabby
old woman, even I am surprised
by the way my heart opens and
I nearly cry for the thrill of it,
queen’s crown! There is
so much bliss to be found
when we are not looking, not
waiting, not expecting—sweet
mystery in the field. I walk
toward the woods where
the chanterelles grow,
the bog rising to meet my feet.
Ah…
yes, the smell of humus and chanterelles…
and I, I am almost that crabby old woman and my heart opened with this poem. Maybe it was the earthy, slightly acrid smell of the bog.
One never knows.
“So much bliss to be found” thank you for reminding me. Lovely poem.