What the Day
Gives
Suddenly, sun. Over my
shoulder
in the middle of gray November
what I hoped to do comes back,
asking.
in the middle of gray November
what I hoped to do comes back,
asking.
Across the street the fiery
trees
hold onto their leaves,
red and gold in the final months
of this unfinished year,
they offer blazing riddles..
hold onto their leaves,
red and gold in the final months
of this unfinished year,
they offer blazing riddles..
In the frozen fields of my
life
there are no shortcuts to spring,
but stories of great birds in migration
carrying small ones on their backs,
predators flying next to warblers
they would, in a different season, eat.
there are no shortcuts to spring,
but stories of great birds in migration
carrying small ones on their backs,
predators flying next to warblers
they would, in a different season, eat.
Stunned by the astonishing
mix in this uneasy world
that plunges in a single day from despair
to hope and back again, I commend my life
to Ruskin's difficult duty of delight,
and to that most beautiful form of courage,
to be happy.
that plunges in a single day from despair
to hope and back again, I commend my life
to Ruskin's difficult duty of delight,
and to that most beautiful form of courage,
to be happy.
~ Jeanne Lohmann
~
(The Light of Invisible
Bodies)
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