The roar was so loud I heard in the parking lot last night, when I got home from somewhere. What laugh was this in the sky? It was the ocean, whose wild crashing waves called fiercely. Write poems, breathe, run with your brand new sneakers. I heard the coyotes circle and bark other days– I think it is a family of young pups whose mother only has three legs– and the horses snoring like elephants. Tomorrow in class we will discuss poems by Li-young Lee. I want to tell the students this is their rare life chance to read beauty, to breathe the breath of a poet, to think.
Here are his lines:
…where there is rain/there is time and memory, and sometimes sweetness.
While the long grain is softening/ in the water, gurgling/ over a low stove flame…
Of wisdom, splendid columns of light/ waking sweet foreheads/ I know nothing/ but what I’ve glimpsed in my most hopeful of daydreams.
How could they not want to read those?
An incessant songbird plies its tune, mellowed by the chirps from other branches. Sometimes where I live, it is so quiet I can only hear the refrigerator hum.
One cat is hiding near the ceiling, and the other blinks, stretching her paw out like a queen. They are waiting for dinner, which will come today an hour early. The lost hour slips by, like a girl on her way to dance class, shoulders hunched, eyes averted. Already March, Spring readies to let down her hair and twirl.