My work is to be the student of the buds
that have been on the birch all winter—
tight and red, they know when to clench,
when to wait, when to swell,
when to burst, when to green.
My work is to open like the scent of juniper
when stroked by afternoon sun,
like the gong when rapidly rapped
into a shining explosion of resonance.
And when I am wall, my work
is to add hinges and become door.
And when I am lock, my work
is to find the lost key.
My work is to be baby bird,
to open my beak and take in
whatever the world has to feed me
and then
learn to fly.
Rosemerry, you touched my heart once again. Thank you so much! Have a wonderful spring.
Thank you, Ann … so much opening to do!
xo
r
Love this sooooooo much. Thank you, Rosemerry, & Happy Spring!
Happy Spring! And thank you …
It’s hard to write about the work we do! (Work? What work?!) Here’s one my favorites on the subject, by Lorine Niedecker:
POET’S WORK
Grandfather
advised me:
Learn a trade
I learned
to sit at desk
and condense
No layoff
from this
condensery
I love this little poem! Thank you for sharing it with me, I’ll have to look her up! She nailed it, yep! That is the work of a poet! I was thinking my little poem was more about living, but it is also, I see, a poem about poeming. Thank you for pointing that out to me!
Another winner, Rosemerry! What a gift to end the day! Thank you…..I’ll save it for repeat treats when I’m feeling spent.
Oh, sweet you! Thank you … wishing you rejuvenation!