this year a may basket

a week into new england april,
on the verge of spewing
a litany of loud complaints,
she comes to an abrupt halt;
something
stops her.
what?
probably not her sore foot,
still in pain six weeks on.
nor the gray cloud cover
for five days’ running,
nor the wind hitting her face,
nor the bite in the air.
nor the preponderance
of leafless dessicated brown
everywhere
world without end.
certainly not the irritation
she feels about being asked
for a favor from an acquaintance
when she just does
not
wish to say yes.
still and all,
something stops her.
a flash of grace?
maybe, in fact, the plain meanness
of that irritation about the requested favor?
whatever the case,
she takes her own hand
and leads herself upstairs
to the bailey road bedroom
where she invites herself
to settle on the wicker-seated rocker,
a place she doesn’t typically sit,
a pause she doesn’t typically take.
the gentle to-and-fro loosens her,
her incipient complaints fall away,
she begins to notice
what her grievance filter
had been blocking
as surely as had the clouds the sky—
daffodils nosing up through the soil,
homemade tomato soup available for lunch,
the chance to pick up her paintbrush
and a fresh sheet of watercolor paper,
the memory of overcoming an irritation
once by assigning the task at hand
to an alternate internal personality
surprisingly well-suited to the job.
she plucks each noticing
like an early spring flower,
arranges the noticings one by one
into a charming posy,
beribbons that tiny nosegay,
places it in a handled basket,
and hangs it on her own front door
early early early
on the morning of may first,
there to be discovered
later in the day,
a surprise of kindness
and self-compassion.

—dotty seiter

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Notes about poem and art:
• “this year” is many things: free verse, a poem of free association, perhaps a poem-length pun shining light on both Mayday—a critical international radio distress signal for life-threatening emergencies, derived from the French m’aider (“help me”)—and on May Day (two words)—a traditional spring festival held on May 1st, often featuring dancing and celebrations?
• Earthenware is my response to a session offered in the Sketchbook Revival Challenge entitled Draw a Wobbly Fantasy House From Your Imagination with Irene Ruby. The session as I experienced it was a delightful melding of tapping into my imagination while also taking advantage of Irene’s invitation to follow her lead. Just the right ticket on the day when I played at this!