|Cuernavaca Orange Tree|
by Joyce Wycoff
Few of us willingly leap into a raging river.
We may fall in when the bank crumbles, or
We may be pushed in by friend or foe, or
We may fail to negotiate a series of stepping stones.
Once in that churning water, however, uncertainty reigns.
We might drown fighting the tumbling current, or
We might cling to a log until we reach a far shore, or
We might be plucked from the waters by a boatman.
Whatever happens, we will be swept away,
To a place stony and unforgiving, or
To a place of palm trees and abundance, or
To a place with open arms and warm blankets.
Wherever we land is called life.
We can look backward and yearn, or
We can dry ourselves in the sun and hope for help, or
We can stand up and walk toward the horizon.
Every day, every moment, is a raging river,
Whether we leap, fall, or are pushed,
Yesterday is swept away
Leaving a new menu of choices
These words surprised me this morning in Cuernavaca ... swirling around in my head like a river ... but, fortunately not raging.