January 2011
12 posts
Wedlock Sunday
she is working in the garden, facing away from me, trimming the bougainvillea, still trim herself and youthful, relaxed and free of cares, doing something she enjoys, something that she always has enjoyed, and having lost all conception of the passing of the hours, and i feel a tenderness for her that i may never have felt during the selfish passion of young manhood, and i wish the...
French Toast
Pain perdu: lost bread. Thick slices sunk in milk, fringed with crisp lace of browned egg and scattered sugar. Like spongiest challah, dipped in foaming cream and frothy egg, richness drenching every yeasted crevice and bubble, that’s how sodden with luck I felt when we fell in love. Now, at forty, I remember that “lost bread” means bread that’s gone stale, leftover...
The End of Sleep
The eyes are about to open. Through fog, Sleep crosses the great water— See how it sails in the little boat? Slowly, such a long journey, Bits of light Catch colors in the mirrored hull. Beneath the glassy surface, a glimpse Of your dreams: the lake, the boat, with you In it. Now a shadow Falls over you: above the surface, The figure of Sleep Has leaned over its boat. Hear...
Blizzard
After midnight the blizzard howls itself out, the wind sleeps, a tired lover. Before bed, I think of you and play the Meistersinger quintet over and over, singing along on all the parts, dancing though the house like a polar bear who thinks it has joined the ballet. You are in my arms, dancing too; whirling from room to room; frost crusted on the window begins to glow like lit up...
Blow, Blow, thou Winter Wind
Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As man’s ingratitude, as man’s ingratitude. Though thou the waters warp, Thy teeth are not so sharp, Although thy breath be rude, although thy breath be rude. My faithful friends draw nigh And look us in the eye It is a wealthy man who has good friends like you. Through darkness, cold, and snow, Wherever you may go, You...
Good Workers
Let us praise good workers (you know who you are) Who come gladly to the job and do what you can For as long as it takes to repair the car Or clean the house – the woman or man Who dives in and works steadily straight through, Not lagging and letting others carry the freight, Who joke around but do what you need to do, Like the home caregiver who comes daily at eight A.m. to wash and dress...
A Clearing
What lies at the end of enticing country driveways, curving off among trees? Often only a car graveyard, a house-trailer, a trashy bungalow. But this one, for once, brings you through the shade of its green tunnel to a paradise of cedars, of lawns mown but not too closely, of iris, moss, fern, rivers of stone rounded by sea or stream, of a wooden unassertive large-windowed house. The...
Night Journey
Now as the train bears west, Its rhythm rocks the earth, And from my Pullman berth I stare into the night While others take their rest. Bridges of iron lace, A suddenness of trees, A lap of mountain mist All cross my line of sight, Then a bleak wasted place, And a lake below my knees. Full on my neck I feel The straining at a curve; My muscles move with steel, I wake in every nerve. ...