Monday Morning Wake-Up Call

You tell me to live each day
as if it were my last. This is in the kitchen
where before coffee I complain
of the day ahead – that obstacle race
of minutes and hours,
grocery stores and doctors.

But why the last? I ask. Why not
live each day as if it were the first –
all raw astonishment, Eve rubbing
her eyes awake that first morning,
the sun coming up
like an ingénue in the east?

You grind the coffee
with the small roar of a mind
trying to clear itself. I set
the table, glance out the window
where dew has baptized every
living surface.

Linda Pastan, “Imaginary Conversation” from Insomnia: Poems

 


Notes: Poem – Thank you Whiskey River. Photo: (via Your Eyes Blaze Out)

Saturday Morning

october-fall-autumn-red-leaves

Let the eye enlarge
with all it beholds.

I want to celebrate color,
how one red leaf flickers
like a match held to a dry branch,
and the whole world goes up
in orange and gold.

~ Linda Pastan, from “Autumn” in Carnival Evening, New & Selected Poems 1968-1998

 


Notes: Poem Source: Thank you Beth @ Alive on All Channels. Photo: via The Sensual Starfish

 

 

 

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