Sunday in Cornwallville

and this day could not be more beautiful

I have tried for over 30 years

to describe what life feels like here on this porch.

Functional medicine doctor I consulted with

last week for nutrition (I did not like her. I am not

a good candidate anyway for nutrition consultation.

She declared: People With Hashimoto’s Should Never

Ever Eat Any Gluten. And I Mean Never). But she did say

one interesting thing: describe your sleep from inside out.

And although I couldn’t do that about sleep anyway

I wish I really wish that I had the skills and the vocabulary

and the insistence and persistence to tell you to really

and truly and honestly describe what it feels like to sit right here

in the very same spot an old divan with broken springs covered

by many different pieces of cloth, one from Tibet, a gift

from Breena, and I face out into what no one would call

a spectacular view. We are not on a mountaintop, not

facing farms, and yet this beauty, this deep true beauty, green

unlike any other green, sky the soft blue the sky can sometimes be,

and sun, always sun even when there isn’t any, I wish I had

the capacity, the way some writers do, to tell you in a way

that you would know and understand, that you would feel

and experience what real true beauty is, and love.