Now, I rely on the four small boughs of plum blossoms, and the stargazers, to remind me of what's to come, or is already coming, or came, at least in San Francisco.
Meanwhile, the battle between the snow and the still-frozen Earth is beautiful. After dinner tonight, enjoyed in the light that now lingers well into the evening, the girls and I walked through the back field to bring some carrots to Cannonball Blue, our neighboring horse. He nibbled, and the geese flew overhead.
Sometime in January, I picked up a few books of poetry, and Stella has been reading us a poem many nights before dinner, in place of grace. Mostly Mary Oliver, but tonight, Alice Walker, from Absolute Trust in the Goodness of the Earth.
Here's the poem that she read:
Even When I Walked Away
i.
There were odd
New flowers
In a vase
Beside the door
The door
To my strange
New underground
There in the
Semi-dark
They sparkled
Like
Blue
Jewels.
Even when I
Walked away
Explored other
Rooms of
The new and spacious house
They beckoned me.
Come, they said
We are strange
We are new
We did not grow
Overnight
Although it is
Just now
That you see
Us
And we are yours.
Red Petal Sticking Out
ii
I could not accept
That such strange
Enchanting blossoms
Belonged to me.
Wearing my loosest coat
I snuck into my own
Dim foyer
And stole
A portion
Of the generous
Bouquet.
Sneaking it
Through the street
Concealed but poorly
Against my chest
Red petals
Sticking out
I came upon my other
Doors.
Inside My Rooms
iii
Inside my rooms
I began to mix them
With the flowers
I already had
The too familiar
Snapdragon
The overly sniffed
Daffodil
The hollyhock
Ho-hum.
A woman who
Did not love
Herself
Passed by
As I shaped
This new
Bouquet.
She said: I'm leaving.
I did not know
She was still
Inside my house.
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