Wednesday, August 24, 2011

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
art by  scarlet owl





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