Too many things I hoped
would last forever
disappear. Bumblebees
fumbling a field
of rosemary.
The sun breaks
through morning fog,
a yellow hammer—
call of a distant towhee.
At the yoga mat,
it’s the same
as any other day—
poses probing
the groin’s stiff clay.
Only words
come easily: new
leaves on the old
eucalyptus.
–
Robbi Nester is a retired college educator who currently hosts two monthly poetry reading series on Zoom. She is the author of 4 books of poetry and has edited three anthologies.