Ordinary Illumination
I’m going nowhere, but I’m sweating
on the elliptical machine.
My husband works at his desk nearby.
Outside the glass doors, the leaves
on the trees are beginning
to bud, but from here they look naked
and cold. “Look, a blue jay.” I point
to the winged visitor
preening on a branch.
“Do you think it’s Blue?” my husband
refers to the blue jay we named
at our old house, five years ago.
He tells me the lifespan
of blue jays is seven years,
give or take.
All of us, all of the living,
exist in that give or take,
in that short burst of light
between birth and death.
A red-headed woodpecker
pecks at another tree.
A cardinal flits by with his mate.
I am undone by the wealth of beauty
in flight, wondering if
I’m soaring in the brief
sun-lit sky of life
or just flapping my wings,
going nowhere.
*
Bethany Jarmul is an Appalachian writer and poet. She’s the author of two chapbooks and one poetry collection. Her work has been published in many magazines including Rattle, Salamander, ONE ART, and South Florida Poetry Journal. Her writing was selected for Best Spiritual Literature 2023 and Best Small Fictions 2024, and has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, The Best of the Net, Best Microfiction, and Wigleaf Top 50. Connect with her at bethanyjarmul.com or on social media: @BethanyJarmul.
