apple

.

I wake and remembered 

nothing of what I was dreaming

The day grew light, then dark again — 

In all its rich hours, what happened? 

A few weeds pulled, a few cold flowers 

carried inside for the vase. 

A little reading. A little tidying and sweeping.

I had vowed to do nothing I did not wish 

to do that day, and kept my promise.

Once, a certain hope came close 

and then departed. Passed by me in its familiar 

shawl, scented with iodine woodsmoke.

I did not speak to it, nor it to me. 

Yet still the habit of warmth traveled 

between us, like an apple shared by old friends —

One takes a bite, then the other. 

They do this until it is gone.

~ Jane Hirshfield