When I awoke on the morning
of my two hundredth birthday,
I expected to be consulted
like the Sibyl at Cumae.
I could tell them something.
Instead, it was the usual thing:
dried grapefruit for breakfast,
Mozart all morning, interrupted
by bees’ wings,
and making love with a woman
one hundred and eighty-one years old.
At my birthday party
I blew out two hundred candles
one at a time, taking
naps after each twenty-five.
Then I went to bed, at five-thirty,
on the day of my two hundredth birthday,
and slept and dreamed
of a house no bigger than a flea’s house
with two hundred rooms in it,
and in each of the rooms a bed,
and in each of the two hundred beds
‘On Reaching the Age of Two Hundred’ by Donald Hall, The Selected Poems of Donald Hall.
It’s National Pet Day today.
Woke up this morning with
a terrific urge to lie in bed all day
and read. Fought against it for a minute.
Then looked out the window at the rain.
And gave over. Put myself entirely
in the keep of this rainy morning.
Would I live my life over again?
Make the same unforgiveable mistakes?
Yes, given half a chance. Yes.
~ ‘Rain’ by Raymond Carver, The Collected Poems
Over your gray and white oval marble-top kitchen table,
the meeting of our eyes makes the room grow brighter.
Our faces, layer after layer, become so vibrant
the light appears to crest in waves.
We have become changed by it, nothing can be
the same after it. When I bend down to touch
the shape of deer tracks in the damp sand, it is in
the same way I place my fingers over your body.
When I stand beside a freshet in a meadow
the sun catches the rings of the water’s long ripples
in the wind, that is the same glimmer we hold
when our eyes meet in the kitchen over
your gray and white oval marble-top table.
Every day for the rest of my life, yours is the face
I want to see when I awake in the morning.
‘Radiance’ by Wally Swist, Huang Po and the Dimensons of Love.
Weekly photo challenge Vibrant
It’s a National Cat Day today.
Her repertoire is limited but fulfilling,
with two preoccupations, or three, perhaps,
if you include the taking of many naps:
otherwise she is snuggling or killing.
~ David R. Slavitt, William Henry Harrison and Other Poems.
The stillness, the radio’s news,
the scent of rain. My neighbor
bending to pick up his newspaper
in its orange plastic bag, tossed
on the step. The cars all
heading this way or that,
a fine spray beneath their wheels. Vapor
rising from sidewalks, and the light
of the eastern sun, slanting long, as if
there’s all the time in the world.
~ ‘Morning’ by Krista Lukas, Fans of My Unconscious.
Weekly photo challenge Grid
Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you, again.
~ ‘The Thing Is’ by Ellen Bass, Mules of Love.
Weekly photo challenge Rule of Thirds
My friends think I’m outgoing, but I don’t travel as much outside as I do from the inside.
~ Ana Claudia Antunes, The Tao of Physical and Spiritual
Weekly photo challenge Depth
Aslan the cat, in the previously photo challenge:
Express Yourself and Serenity