Stop, Reboot

Bad Start

to the day, what with finding

feathers, then bodies

of two hens killed by hawks.

And power out, so I can’t

work despite glaring deadlines.


Picking tomatoes and chard

for breakfast, I step on a bee

whose final act is to heave

her brave sword in my sole.

Startled, I skid on dew-wet grass,

fall sharply, my face whirling

a breath’s distance from roses

prickled with scarifying thorns,


and laugh.


I’d been soggy

cereal in the bowl,

mail dropped in a ditch,

a garden wizened by blight,


but now,

foot in lap, I pinch

out the stinger,

stabbed by gratitude

for an insect’s

venomous antidote.

Now all I see is a shining

curtain of light pulled open

to the third act of a comedy

performed as it

is lived.

Laura Grace Weldon

Originally published in Gyroscope Review  Find more poems in my collection, Tending.

8 thoughts on “Stop, Reboot

  1. Thank you so much for this reminder of how humor can save us from sinking under the weight of circumstances beyond our control. Your words overcome the darkness in the scene you paint. Thank you especially for the laughs. PEACE

    Liked by 1 person

    • I sat on the grass and laughed a ridiculously long time. I kept replaying what must have been my alarmed facial expression as I tried to avoid falling in the rose bush. I could giggle about it even now. Bless bees and thorns and even bad moods themselves for what they can teach us.


  2. But didnt it make you feel alive and gave you a story to share:)
    Hopefully a morning soon is its yang contrast in fortune and delight. x to make it better.

    Liked by 1 person

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