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.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Respite
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