April 26, 2017.  Rumi’s poem The Guest House is a touchstone for me, and arrived yet again in this morning’s email – redirecting my poem-in-process.  I’ve been fingering the remains of a plastic lens cover off one of the running lights on our travel trailer – sensing a poem lurking – not quite sure of is message.   We put the Casita (ours for seven years) up for sale, advertising “excellent condition”.  Prospective buyers enroute, and no way to remedy this unexpected flaw!  What to do but acknowledge its presence?  And, of course, assure a replacement would be factory-delivered to buyers’ door.

A happy ending: the sale went through – leaving me with three shards of amber plastic as tactile reminder to accept whatever intrudes, make no assumptions, and don’t panic.

To Read Rumi’s poem: