who buys brown-spotted eggs direct from the chickens.
Who never scoops out the blood spots
or tosses shells in the trash.
I will wash and sort my recycling.
I will bundle cardboard with rough string and gift-tie it
in neat bows.
I will cook fresh soups from scratch.
I will wrap my leftovers in beeswax cloth softened
against my heart.
I’ll become a person who sweeps and mops the front porch
and waves hello to the neighbours.
Who appreciates the relationship of bees to apiarist.
I will return strange mail to the sender.
I will switch from outdoor shoes to slippers.
I will become a person who can knit baby socks on
tiny needles.
Who can tame a songbird on an outstretched hand.
I will eat crystals.
I will work miracles.
I will wake up with the sun to be mindful.
I will be a person who speaks only in song.
Who sends handwritten notes to mark minor occasions.
Who bakes crispy pies and writes in fountain pen.
I will scrawl to-do lists onto my palms.
Collect dryer lint in apron pockets.
I will be the kind of person who changes the sheets daily
and hangs them to flutter in the cinema of the yard.
I will dream with brightness up and saturation down.
The one who consumes her receipts.
Weeds the sidewalk.
Boils the roots for tea.
Kate Hargreaves is the author of 4 books of poetry and fiction, including the poetry collections Leak (Book*hug, 2014) and tend (Book*hug, Fall 2022). She lives and works in Windsor, Ontario where she also plays roller derby and talks too much about her cats. Find her work at CorusKate.com.
Header photograph and artwork by Jordan Keller-Wilson
Vast 