Who would have guessed it possible

that waiting is sustainable—

a place with its own harvests.

~ Excerpt from Kay Ryan, Patience

Winter snuck in while I was sleeping. Good thing I brought the geraniums in! I was awake by 6:00 a.m. and I felt like running, even in the cold, but had very limited time. A frosty, quick run, a warm quick swim. Another day away from my desk, helping the one in the house not feeling well. And full of November gratitude. As I was coming awake this morning, I listened for some moments to my heart beating against the blanket curled around my neck. The angle of my neck, the covers, who knows why, I could feel the pulse of my heart beating, one two three four, one two three four. . . and who cannot feel grateful for the steadiness of that rhythm upon waking? And today is the day my husband comes home. He comes home in the late afternoon. I am at the door with the dogs and the under-the-weather one in my arms on my hip. He is smiling to see us; and we him. He has been to Sedona and has brought me a present: first, I must mention that I have, while he was gone, bought myself a pair of silver earrings––feathers. He doesn’t know this. I open the present he has brought: a silver bracelet––a feather.