from the Writer’s Almanac, from today.
I think this one is also too good not to share.
Shana tova to everyone, with hopes of dividends of the good that we’ve done and shared from the past, to the gifts of the future that remain hidden and will surprise us, finding the best in all.
It is a simple garment, this slipped-on world.
We wake into it daily—open eyes, braid hair—
a robe unfurled
in rose-silk flowering, then laid bare.
And yes, it is a simple enough task
we’ve taken on,
though also vast:
from dusk to dawn,
from dawn to dusk, to praise, and not
be blinded by the praising.
To lie like a cat in hot
sun, fur fully blazing,
and dream the mouse;
and to keep too the mouse’s patient, waking watch
within the deep rooms of the house,
where the leaf-flocked
sunlight never reaches, but the earth still blooms.