Present – W.S. Merwin

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Present

 

 

As they were leaving the garden

one of the angels bent down to them and whispered

 

I am to give you this

as you are leaving the garden

 

I do not know what it is

or what it is for

what you will do with it

 

you will not be able to keep it

but you will not be able

 

to keep anything

yet they both reached at once

 

for the present

and when their hands met

 

they laughed

 

 

~ W.S. Merwin

from  Garden Time

 

Photograph Rose Cook

Thanks -WS Werwin

 

 

photograph Rose Cook

On the 100 years’ anniversary of the end of the First World War

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MCMXIV, by Phillip Larkin

Those long uneven lines
Standing as patiently
As if they were stretched outside
The Oval or Villa Park,
The crowns of hats, the sun
On moustached archaic faces
Grinning as if it were all
An August Bank Holiday lark;

And the shut shops, the bleached
Established names on the sunblinds,
The farthings and sovereigns,
And dark-clothed children at play
Called after kings and queens,
The tin advertisements
For cocoa and twist, and the pubs
Wide open all day;

And the countryside not caring:
The place-names all hazed over
With flowering grasses, and fields
Shadowing Domesday lines
Under wheat’s restless silence;
The differently-dressed servants
With tiny rooms in huge houses,
The dust behind limousines;

Never such innocence,
Never before or since,
As changed itself to past
Without a word – the men
Leaving the gardens tidy,
The thousands of marriages,
Lasting a little while longer:
Never such innocence again.

For the sake of breathing

Spring Poem For the Sake of Breathing

by James Masao Mitsui

 

The sky wants the water to turn grey,
but if I notice how waves

play with the clumps of yellow flags,
or the way turtles share logs,

or even try to understand a friend’s decision
to walk onto a glacier

and end her life—I will be ready
for any poems that have been waiting.

The horizon opens as I walk,
escorted by swans and Canada geese.

I need to stop backpedaling into the present.
In my old life people would straighten

the truth, but the river
flows in curves.

The names of my father and my mother
rest next to each other in Greenwood Cemetery.

The distance between me and the mountains
measures an uneven thought: I feel like an orphan.

An early moon is just a piece of change
in the softening sky.

Light is such an actress. Time to seek
Hopper’s wish to simply paint sunlight

on the wooden wall of a house. I am growing
older. Maru in Japanese means

the ship
will make it back home.

 

photo Rose Cook

Mary Oliver: Why I Wake Early

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Why I Wake Early
by Mary Oliver

Hello, sun in my face.
Hello, you who make the morning
and spread it over the fields
and into the faces of the tulips
and the nodding morning glories,
and into the windows of, even, the
miserable and crotchety–

best preacher that ever was,
dear star, that just happens
to be where you are in the universe
to keep us from ever-darkness,
to ease us with warm touching,
to hold us in the great hands of light–
good morning, good morning, good morning.

Watch, now, how I start the day
in happiness, in kindness.

 

 

photo Rose Cook

I think I just want to be sad today

On sad by Hafiz

I think I just want to be sad today, the way many
are in this world. True, God rides in my pocket,
as He does in yours.

Yes, I could lift Him out and look upon various
realms of light and know great happiness. Maybe
I will do that tomorrow.

The ocean has moods. Have you not seen how its
colour can change, and the waves’ force and heights
can differ?

 

photo Rose Cook