Saturday Morning

Windowsills evenly welcome
both heat and cold.
Radiators speak or fall silent as they must.

Doors are not equivocal
floorboards do not hesitate or startle.
Impatience does not stir the curtains,
a bed is neither irritable nor rapacious.

Whatever disquiet we sense in a room
we have brought there.

And so I instruct my ribs each morning,
pointing to hinge and plaster and wood —

You are matter, as they are.
See how perfectly it can be done.
Hold, one day more, what is asked.

~ Jane Hirshfield, from “A Room” from “The Lives of the Heart: Poems

 


Painting, Poul Anker Bech (Danish, 1942-2009), “Sun Dreams”, 1973 via Huariqueje

What the h*ll was that?

Steve Layman posted this cartoon last week. It activated an immediate reaction.  I laughed.  Then said: “TRUE.”  Then said “THAT’S ME.”  Then psychoanalysis rolled in like a thick soupy fog in the Bay Area.  And hangs low and hovers on the “why.”  And went on lingering on the 11-hour ride to pick-up Eric from college.  Didn’t we just take this emotional empty nester ride a few months back?  Time.  Whoosh.

Robert Weber