respite

Day after quiet day passes.

I speak to no one besides the dog.

To her,

I murmur much I would not otherwise say.

We make plans

then break them on a moment's whim.

She agrees;

though sometimes bringing

to my attention a small blue ball.

Passing the fig tree

I see it is

 suddenly huge with green fruit,

which may ripen or not.

Near the gate,

I stop to watch

the sugar ants climb the top bar

and cross at the latch,

as they have now in summer for years.

In this way I study my life.

It is,

I think today,

like a dusty glass vase.

A little water, 

a few flowers would be good,

I think;

but do nothing. Love is far away.

Incomprehensible sunlight falls on my hand.

~ Jane Hirshfield

from The Lives of the Heart