It took a few days before I settled into this poem. It is not that I did not like it, but it is so subtle that if you are the least bit distracted with other matters, it is very easy to read it quickly and move on to the next email. Yet, slowly I realized that the poem has a beautiful quietness. What came to mind was Andrew Wyeth's paintings of simple things like gently blowing curtains, or a dog napping on a well made bed. I felt the door to my heart gently opening to the sacredness all around me. A generous gift indeed.
When I went online to learn more about the author, I was moved by this photograph of her. She looks complete. Just the way one hopes to look towards the end of these physical lives. It really is a journey of learning to hunger less so we can savor more.
My coffee tastes delicious this morning.
It is a kind of love, is it not?
How the cup holds the tea,
How the chair stands sturdy and foursquare,
How the floor receives the bottoms of shoes
Or toes. How soles of feet know
Where they’re supposed to be.
I’ve been thinking about the patience
Of ordinary things, how clothes
Wait respectfully in closets
And soap dries quietly in the dish,
And towels drink the wet
From the skin of the back.
And the lovely repetition of stairs.
And what is more generous than a window?
~ Pat Schneider
How the cup holds the tea,
How the chair stands sturdy and foursquare,
How the floor receives the bottoms of shoes
Or toes. How soles of feet know
Where they’re supposed to be.
I’ve been thinking about the patience
Of ordinary things, how clothes
Wait respectfully in closets
And soap dries quietly in the dish,
And towels drink the wet
From the skin of the back.
And the lovely repetition of stairs.
And what is more generous than a window?
~ Pat Schneider
First Sip
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