Nonna Slepakova, Russsian poet and translator, Komarovo 1995
Being Wise Fifty-Nine March 20, 2022
I’m alive. Remember to remember.
The days pass slowly. I’m not in pain.
Only a few twinges that don’t linger.
I read and write, make lasagna and
tunafish salad, wash dishes, make
my bed, drink hot lemon grass
ginger tea, take my pills, talk to
friends by email, and to Tim when
he’s home and awake. My heart
still goes along steadily. I fall
asleep when I don’t want to, and
stay awake when I want to sleep.
Outside I see the volunteer peach
tree blossoms opening. The carpenter
bees are busy among them. The
earth is alive, too. Janet plants beets
and sugar snap peas. The onions get
growth spurts. It rains more often.
Sun and rain produce their magic.
It’s a good time to be alive.
No comments:
Post a Comment