Wednesday, June 12, 2013

briefly


Briefly It Enters, Briefly Speaks
by Jane Kenyon

I am the blossom pressed in a book,
found again after two hundred years. . . .

I am the maker, the lover, the keeper. . . .

When the young girl who starves
sits down to a table
she will sit beside me. . . .

I am food on the prisoner’s plate. . . .

I am water rushing to the wellhead,
filling the pitcher until it spills. . . .

I am the patient gardener
of the dry and weedy garden. . . .

I am the stone step,
the latch, and the working hinge. . . .

I am the heart contracted by joy. . . .
the longest hair, white
before the rest. . . .

I am there in the basket of fruit
presented to the widow. . . .

I am the musk rose opening
unattended, the fern on the boggy summit. . . .

I am the one whose love
overcomes you, already with you
when you think to call my name. . . .



1 comment:

  1. WOW! That's beautiful, Ruth, from Jane Kenyon! And the image is sooooo European, like something I could have seen yesterday. Thank you.

    ReplyDelete

Welcome. If you would like to say something, rest assured that I will respond in my self, even if I do not respond in word.