Tuesday, November 02, 2004

This poem now marks the turning point wherein
I let go of having Noah, my adorable grandson,
at the bottom of this page. He will now drop off -
so IF you want to see Noah, go to the 9/12-9/17page
in the Archives -- meanwhile, I am compelled to post
this poem I got email this morning, and begin to let
go of the Dark Day and all that. It spoke to me.
So here it is:



The beautiful gray dog
loping across the lawn
all afternoon for the sheer
joy of summertime,

bees at their balm, the dragonfly
asleep on a raspberry leaf-
that's how we'd live
if living were enough

innocent, single-hearted
like the mourning dove who's called
his mate in the cool dawn
from one pine for a thousand years.

These do not wake in tears
nor does deception drive them
down to the blue pond
where the beaver, prince

of chaos, who appeared
alone as if from nowhere
is tirelessly constructing
his dark palace of many rooms.

Katha Pollitt
(c) 2003 by the Paris Review.

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