While in recovery

While in recovery, my world’s grown small, 

Peopled as it is by deer, and birds, 

And distant views of islands, water, 

Sky, and clouds; by sunsets gray or colorful — 

All gifts that lie beyond the windows 

While I sit, or sleep, or walk 

The few steps I can manage, 

The number growing slowly, day by day. 

And yet, what more than this 

Might anyone want? An opportunity 

 To grow closer to sea and sky, 

To watch the vee of geese fly honking by, 

 The clouds shift as the young deer lose their spots, 

And the bucks’ horns lose their fur; 

To mourn the loss of color 

As the lavender in my garden and the grass 

Both fade to brown 

 Under the harsh light of the sun…