Remembering Miss Marsh
Twice every Sunday I was marched to church
misery on two legs
alone in a long line of gossiping girls
my rubbed-raw eyes seeing only
a blurred progression of paving stones.
Until Miss Marsh encouraged me
to look up and notice things.
And I’ve been looking up and noticing ever since.
Focusing on the bigger picture
I missed the kestrel
leaving its windowsill