March 2023 SOLC–Day 30
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Yesterday morning, after a rough night’s sleep/not sleep, I woke to a gift. In my Inbox was a poem from the poet, Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer. I don’t subscribe to many daily e-mails, because I simply can’t keep up, but this is one I read regularly. Rosemerry writes and shares a poem each day. Today’s began like this:

“No matter the day is already planned
to the minute. No matter how pressing
the deadline, the must do, the should.
It takes only a second to look out the window.”

I am blessed with many windows in my home and lovely views of green and gardens. I spend lots of time watching the birds, spying deer, watching the seasons unfold in the foliage. I can look through my car windows as I drive to school on winding country roads through rolling fields and beside and over a river each day. I truly am thankful every single day for living in the midst of such beauty.

Still, when times are busy and so much is compacted into a day, I so often forget to look in any sort of meaningful way. The reminder that It takes only a second to look out the window is an important one for me.

Her final verse begins, “How quickly the known world cants toward awe
when wonder slips in…”

This is one reason I love her poetry. She is deeply attuned to the powerful, positive impact of the natural world and nudges me to be so as well.

I thought of her words as I drove to work yesterday, and tried to be more mindful of the beauty that surrounded me. I parked in the early morning empty parking lot at school, and my mind turned to the bird feeders I’d so optimistically placed outside my new classroom window in the fall. How winter’s forces had pulled the pole to the ground. How, in the daily rush to getreadygetmoredonegettothatnextthingonthelist, I’d not taken the time to fix it. Week after week after week.

Today, with Rosemerry’s poem in mind, I dropped off my bags in my classroom, and walked immediately out the end door and around the building. I carefully hoisted the metal pole and repositioned it, straightening the feeders and putting in the last of the bird seed. Then I returned to my race of a day. As the hours passed, every so often I glanced out at the feeders, but nothing stirred.

At about 5 pm, after a staff meeting, the finish line still wasn’t as close as I would have liked. I sat down to begin writing sub plans for this morning, when I have to attend a district meeting. I was tired, and let’s just say my mood wasn’t serene.

A flash of color and movement caught my eye, and I glanced up and out the window. Perched on the platform feeder was a male bluebird. The late afternoon sunlight sparked all his brilliant blue and russet brown into a dazzling glory. I leaned forward to admire, to watch as he hopped about, as he picked up a choice tidbit to eat, stopped, and seemed to cock his head at me. We regarded each other for a moment and then he resumed his seed foraging. I watched him for longer, admiring the intensity of his coloring, the sweet open look of his eyes, the inquisitive tilt of his head. Slowly, I felt some of the day’s accumulated stresses flow off my shoulders. Then I sat back down, settled into my work, a bit lighter, and thoroughly grateful for yet another gift in my day.

“How quickly the known world cants toward awe
when wonder slips in — wonder forged
not from epiphany or greatness
but from the barest instant of meeting what is real.”

Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

Addendum: Not long after I posted this, I finally emerged from writing to notice that day had arrived while I wasn’t looking. The view had changed since yesterday with a faint dusting of fresh snow covering the garden. Again, movement caught my eye, and as I watched, three turkeys ambled out from beneath the apple tree. Slowly, they sauntered across the driveway and into the garden. One emitted a loud “Gobble Gobble Gobble” and then they all strode off down the driveway. And so the world “cants toward awe.”

It takes only a second to look out the window