My Yard as Muse

Today during yoga the instructor told his video audience, "Everything you need is always right in front of you.  Or in you."  Could be a lot of bullshit.  I don't need an old deaf dog.  I don't need a sister who's lost her hair due to chemo.  After yoga I walked around my yard.  The thriving bleeding hearts bush that my daughter-in-law replanted in my yard last Mother's Day was waving her little ruby hearts in a gentle wind.  Little avian motors hummed over my head as a hummingbird moved in on a feeder.  A hawk appeared as if in a dream and sat on a branch way up high in a maple tree. He was watching me.  Sometimes I can't see through the tears as my heart and soul bleed.  Tough times right now.  I am relearning how to accept and let go.  I feel flighty like the ruby-throated hummingbird that zips around my head.  Yet I relate to the tenacity of that tiny bird who migrates to Central America as the air gets chilly in Maine. That's one tough ass bird.  But I am also like that bird of prey.  Protective, fierce. And at times ruthless. But it's probably all just a bunch of yoga bullshit.