Monday, June 3, 2013

Patient and Kind

I take a certain joy in the earth. I turn as always to Emily Dickinson.

The neighbor's cat comes over to hunt. Chickadees warn each other high in the dogwood.

The bears leave their tracks all around the garden. C. dares me to sleep with honey on my toes.

How brilliant the quartz is as summer passes. We are all refugees in a way.

What is offered is taken or it was never offered. Piano notes, love letters, a collection of foreign stamps.

Anger passes much the way a storm does. How long have I collected stories of adultery!

We work all day in the garden. We drink iced tea at night.

The you in question is probably not you. Yet love is not what is negotiated and so . . .

Wind chimes wake me before dawn. I roll over and smell the grass, cold with dew.

The dog watches me follow her to the pond. The heron waits - patient and kind - as always.

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