Preaching to the Preacher
When your downside is upside and all’s in arrears,
there’s a secret I know that will dry up your tears.
It’s much easier, really, than you might suppose.
Just find a good spot and enact your repose.
A hammock will do if you can’t find a field
of wildflowers, grass or sand dunes that yield
to the shape of your body to comfort what ails you.
Take whatever place to lie down that avails you.
Then when your nestling-in is all done,
let the storm of your worries dissolve in the sun.
Swing in your hammock or roll in tall grass.
Let what happens happen. Just let it all pass.
Refuse to let problems consume and astound you.
Take heed of the beauty that is all around you.
Every moment of every day,
choose what holds on and what slips away.
Life deals you the hand and sometimes it’s unlucky,
but yet if you’re hopeful and cheerful and plucky,
You can determine what you do with your hand.
The end of your story has not been preplanned.
You may draw, you may hold, you may just walk away
in search of a better end to this day.
Bad fortune is but a rough interlude
What remains with you is your attitude.
Irony is us. The minute I finished writing this poem, my doorbell rang. It was Raquet Club security with a letter that I have to tear down the small storeroom I built on the wall between my upper and lower lots because it violates the easement! I can’t believe it that I’ve spent thousands of dollars to create a beautiful space in lieu of the neighborhood dumping ground and they nitpick over my attaching a tiny storage building to my own wall between two properties that I own!
“Tranquila, tranquila,” Yolanda directed, as I raged––and then I suddenly remembered the words I’d just written and not even posted yet. I was going to entitle this poem “Preaching from the Choir,” but I think I need to change the title to “Preaching to the Preacher.” I’m going to post it and go lie in the hammock for awhile.