or an iron bell
all for the simple act of a step.
A living weight within joins extra all around to turn
the path from room to room into a feat more fit
for Polo's string of words sent with spice
than for a provincial life here in this small town
set like a stone in a bride's silver band.
But the particular feet that wake me
when they tumble from the room beside
are remarkably, enviably, light.
Tethered to bed with weight and weariness, to me
the steps sound so quick and swift.
Their confidence confounds me.
Like sun and moon joining,
these small bodies rise,
sure and unaware of their singular wonder.
all for the simple act of a step.
A living weight within joins extra all around to turn
the path from room to room into a feat more fit
for Polo's string of words sent with spice
than for a provincial life here in this small town
set like a stone in a bride's silver band.
But the particular feet that wake me
when they tumble from the room beside
are remarkably, enviably, light.
Tethered to bed with weight and weariness, to me
the steps sound so quick and swift.
Their confidence confounds me.
Like sun and moon joining,
these small bodies rise,
sure and unaware of their singular wonder.
Beautiful.
ReplyDeleteAbsolutely, beautiful! Your posts and pics soothe the soul. I know...I've said it many times before, but they do. If just for a moment - to view the happy days of children, gorgeous flowers that I want to put my face into and inhale deeply, the colors of the canned, and cooked, fresh vegetables...again, wish I could inhale the aroma. ALL labors of LOVE. YOUR labor of LOVE. Thank you so much for sharing with us.
ReplyDeleteSnail mail coming soon!
Much love!!
I have read your poem several times. It is wise and quiet and beautiful. Really very beautiful.
ReplyDeleteAs are all these photographs. Such abundance everywhere, and captured in so lovely a way. In the canning, in the harvests, in the handmade, in the gaped tooth grins and happy excitement so obvious. In the colors of flowers and dragonfly wings, in all of these generosities of God.
I think sometimes "why am I taking a picture of food?!? I have a problem." But for me, whatever little thing I am taking a picture of has my earnest attention as an incredibly beautiful gift. And for a moment I dwell this fact. And all at once my gratitude is not a cloud but a pinprick.
When I see pictures of 'stuff' like canned foods and flower vases, baby sleeping or boys trying for the potty, photographs outside the realm of 'special events that need capturing' I know what the photographer means.
And in a real way, it makes me grateful again.
Wow. I want Cadence and Jane to meet! I want to come visit.
ReplyDeleteThank you! All it takes is a few comments to oil the ol' blog machine. ;)
ReplyDeleteElizabeth,
YES!!! Me, too.