The settlers are moving back. The smoke is clear; the rain came today. I spent a novel week in Newport Beach with little Rachie in her new digs. I made three visits to Paper Source and at least four to Pacific Whey Cafe, both Crystal Cove and South Coast. Shameful to some, obvious to others. Must recommend the crème brulée bread pudding and the cinnamon custard triangle.
When the Roses Speak, I Pay Attention
by Mary Oliver
"As long as we are able to
be extravagant we will be
hugely and damply
extravagant. Then we will drop
foil by foil to the ground. This
is our unalterable task, and we do it
joyfully."
And they went on. "Listen,
the heart-shackles are not, as you think,
death, illness, pain,
unrequited hope, not loneliness, but
lassitude, rue, vainglory, fear, anxiety,
selfishness."
Their fragrance all the while rising
from their blind bodies, making me
spin with joy.
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3 comments:
great poem. glad you are back and well. we have been thinking of you.
During a recent Prairie Home Companion broadcast, Garrison Keillor said "in this life, we want what we cannot have, and that is what makes life so beautiful."
Your poem speaks to me. I'm glad you're okay.
Good for people to know.
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