Reserve

I Reserve the Right

to find beauty in everything,

in the children, of course,

and family, friends, and lovers,

but also in the catalog of daily living,

in the exotic succulent,

the mundane marigold,

the common fern, 

all capable of giving birth

to beautiful poems.

I reserve the right

to believe, regardless my sources,

no matter the topic,

that the truth will come out,

honesty will triumph,
love will trump cuteness,

every time,

each wonder-filled heart

generously giving birth

to beautiful poems.

I reserve the right

to be sensitive to each moment, 

open to all possibilities, 

receptive to miracles, 

aligned with love,

in a safe place, constructed 

on the edge of nowhere,

too far into the wild for problems to reach,

the kind of place written about

in beautiful poems.

I reserve the right 

to trust that all the hurt, all the bad, 

all the worry of the world

could be swallowed up there,

never robbing people of their God 
without giving them a better one,

full of harmony, receptivity, peace,

taking time to celebrate what is right, 

the small wins, what is going well,

doing so in a beautiful poem.