It’s the little things that trip me
up and little
things that catch me
when I start to
fall. Nothing big – just a certain
shrillness – can set
me off, but then
the swoop of hawk,
the call of dove can set me right
again. It’s not
only to know, “This
too shall pass.” It’s
learning to accept what’s here
and say, “This too.”
JDG
aholdingplace 
very beautifully done…
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Joan, thanks for your poem about the appearance of “a certain shrillness” until a way is made for the comfort of “acceptance” to descend. I love your images and the language.
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