Been waiting many, many days for her to open. I thought the full moon might be the key. Perhaps, the moon & the sparse rain today (last night?) knew the combination by heart. Now, she's closed. Not withered. So perhaps tonight again she unfolds. I'm reminded of poems being read to an audience and how it is an opening. An unfolding. A good meal accomplishes the same as it opens up conversation.
The pensioner doesn't wish her postman any harm
ReplyDeleteBut it seems only fair to ask for due diligence
Traveling to the distant lands
the humble salesman arranges his wares
At home, the grandchildren wander through his workroom
touching the brass candlesticks, stealing tobacco
Madrigals, solemn in their echo
crush the summer air from a radio
Wormwood, fennel, fields of herbs
called into question, muggy happenstance
where blueberries hide their fruit from kids
and the promise of pie beckons them home
(cp 443 from June 2010 Constellations)