Today's poem is by Susan Rich
Letter to the End of the Year
Lately, I am capable of small things.
Peeling an orange.
Drawing a bath..
Throwing the cat's tinsel ball.Believe me, this is not unhappiness.
Only one question
why this layering on of abeyance?Though it is winter inside of me
there is also spring and fall.
Yellow tulips in need of planting
root in a basket by the door.Tonight, mortality seems cloistered in a pinecone
close-windowed, remote.
What was the peak moment
of your happiness?And how did you know?
For weeks, it's been oatmeal,
the Internet, an Irish shawl.I realize, I am growing older
and stranger.Please, don't misunderstand.
I am still impatient
still waiting for symbiant and swoonthe litter of blue-gold
a one-time constellation:
Now, before you go.
Copyright © 2010 Susan Rich All rights reserved
from The Alchemist's Kitchen
White Pine Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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