Tuesday, February 2, 2021

blank postcards

The calendar all booked up, the future unknown.
The cable silently hums some folk song
but lacks a country.  Snow falls in a gray sea.  Shadows
fight out on the dock.

Halfway through your life, death turns up
and takes your pertinent measurements.  We forget
the visit.  Life goes on. But someone is sewing
the suit in the silence.

~Tomas Transtromer
from The Half-Finished Heaven
translation by robert bly
art by picasso


Mystic Meandering said...

Oh I love this... I've been having that feeling lately - like I'm being measured... Maybe death is closer than I think...

Dean Keller said...

good for all of us to keep that mind.