worth

i measure my worth

in deer so at ease they’ll eat kale from the garden, less than five meters from my door

by a home-cooked meal eaten together, still hot

in heritage Jimson weed blooms on summer nights

& harvested, unblemished squash on autumn afternoons

in bats sighted overhead at dusk from the stoop

in thriving houseplants, all named and watered

in clean sinks, sheets, floors and birdbaths

by pages read, no matter

by the number of rabbits who see me and then ignore my presence

in folks, walking exhausted, or in rain, who accept my offer, climb into my truck with their groceries or booze for a lift home

in miles walked with the dog, and in patience as he interprets the “news” thoroughly with his nose

in native prairie plants restored, by my hand, New England asters, sweetgrass, have mercy,

in minutes spent on the phone with my son,
my golden boy

in bluebirds who sing on my bedroom windowsill especially on my birthday

in knowing how the Moon will look this evening even before she rises

in poems written by, for or about me

in acorns from the sapling white oak i planted, knowing one day, i won’t be able to count them all

with a plate of at least 6 different kinds of freshly cut fruit

in hummingbirds, monarchs, hummingbirds, monarchs, hummingbirds who visit to feed, rest or cocoon

in vibing unabashedly
to music playing loudly
in the barn, in the yard, in the car

in frogs perched on the back porch light, and toads spotted and avoided on the sidewalk in the dark

in trust placed in me

in Duchenne smiles from friends and strangers, but especially strangers, and in the intense knowing look from babies anywhere, but especially in line at Walmart

by how long i kept the christmas tree – fir, spruce, or pine – drinking and alive, far more so than a dozen long-stemmed red roses

by the crows that come back again and again, recognizing my face, voice and reliable aluminum pail / us, counting on one another

by a batch of perfectly brewed and bottled sweet, iced tea

in spying even one snake, one turtle or one heron all year long

and,

by love,

by love,

by love

and that’s why / for a while,

i will feel worthless
worth less
less worth

less.

About kimtnt

i was accidentally seeking, intentionally opining, intensely observing, building a microcosmos, creating art & writing poetry, all to become real View all posts by kimtnt

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