One more poem to end the year

What I believe 

I believe in drinking whiskey in a sunset 

or the ginger fur of a cat splayed out 

in a golden slice of afternoon. 

I believe in the constancy and comfort 

of warm yeast and apples. While 

a potted hibiscus in a backyard in Illinois 

is an act of rebellion, I believe. 

I believe there should be as many words for love 

as there are for clouds or colors. 

When you see a ghost, 

it’s best to call it by name, I believe. 

And while there is no cure for heartache, 

I believe the smallest surprises, 

like a group of ladybugs being called a loveliness, 

are a balm. 

I believe in rubber boots and garden gloves 

and chainsaws to tear down the overgrowth 

blocking my view. I believe 

the dead can feed the living 

in shredded bark and last year’s leaves 

or in what was penned by poets and prophets 

and people who loved trees. 

I believe in getting some air and taking a lap 

or another loop around the block. 

I believe in downward-facing dog. 

I believe most bad moods can be cured 

in a hammock, with a clear view of the sky. 

As difficult as it can be, I believe in rest.

© 2020 Amy Wolgemuth Bordoni