The BlueIris Semi-Nightly Poetry Break, 12/05/09

[BlueIris]

"Briefly It Enters, and Briefly Speaks"

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

I am the maker, the lover, and 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. . . .

--Jane Kenyon

[Tuesday Afternoon]

1. It

:)

thanks

[BlueIris]

2. Yeah. nt

[CaliforniaPeggy]

3. My dear BlueIris...

I've seen this one before, and I have to tell you, it resonates every single damn time.

Wow.

Thank you...

[BlueIris]

4. Kenyon is great. nt