Today's poem is by Margot Schilpp
What parts of the plans holding
this season together are still
in place? If you see the light
of morning, youíve stayed up
too late. If you never see dusk,
youíre turning in too early.
But there are the rest of us
in the middle: we ride see-saws
and notice chlorophyll, steal
the ruins of a kiss, balance the sweet
figures of shaking that come out black.
Tell the trees youíll see them later,
make a date with the sounds
of your own neighborhood. Walk
slowly along its paths and sidewalks.
Your choices will always come in threes:
collapse your heart into the storm
of whatís already been, rake through
the ashes of the past looking
for any little thing that escaped
the conflagration, or build
the next day into a better version
of this one. Maybe youíll find
the scent of licorice, the happiness of dogs.
Maybe youíll notice the certain way
leaves follow each car after itís passed,
and every lonely branch says wait,
Iíll see you in the spring.
Copyright © 2005 Margot Schilpp All rights reserved
from The American Poetry Journal
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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