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.
Laura Grace Weldon 
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
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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.
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Seeing ourselves from the outside, is a good tip, and laughter at ourselves, is even better. Loved your morning!
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Perhaps the fallibility built into these mortal lives of ours is the laugh track we need.
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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.
Rosalie
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Yes, alive!
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You – my friend in the cyberworld – fill me up with good thoughts and things. I am so grateful!
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Bless you.
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