A Rollercoaster of Abundance and Joy

This summer’s
gone so fast
with lots of rain,
wildfire smoke,
foreign adventure,
and family time,
plus plunging into
inconsiderately cold
waters that never
had a chance to warm.
I’ve hiked a glacier,
slept next to a cliff,
saw a moose swimming,
traipsed through
a real castle,
been on high-speed trains,
and transatlantic planes.
I’ve hopped on and off
cable cars and gondolas.
Two bald eagles flew over head.
Loons called out
instructing their babies
and gossiping all night long.
I’ve sung beside a campfire,
below a faint milky way,
and have seen medieval books,
busy marinas, thatched roofs,
lush green valleys,
and gushing waterfalls.
I plein air painted
a dancing elm
beside a foggy bay.
I’ve made new friends.
I’ve played cards and word games.
I’ve walked and prayed and twirled.
I’ve filmed and scripted a video.
I had a volunteer intern,
and designed
most of a new website.
I’ve even driven
a 26′ moving truck,
gripping tightly,
holding my breath,
as it plummeted
like a runaway rollercoaster
down steep mountain passes.
I’ve sold paintings
and was accepted
into multiple prestigious
national and international shows.
I’ve healed more than anyone knows.
I’ve been there for my sister,
and spent quality time
with my husband and
our wonderful daughters.
We had a bumper crop
of peaches from our yard,
and he made a galette;
I made corn chowder,
gazpacho, and tomato tarts.
The garden explodes
in a riotous uprising
of blooming
abundance and joy.
The raspberries
are ripening for
the second time,
as the season turns
its next corner
to the tune of
tuna burgers and melon,
clean kitchen floors,
new linen sheets,
and many ripening lemons
growing on our gifted tree
right outside our front door.
All such a whoosh
of major appreciation
and gratitude,
attentive mindfulness,
and astonishing abandon.
My heart is full and beating.
I expand my thought
to include more good,
and welcome in
the next unfoldment.

by Polly Castor
Labor Day
9/4/23