Just now a kind of golden dust settles over everything

Dear Readers, Friends,

Thanks again for joining me during another National Poetry Month. I hope that some of these words I’ve shared have helped bring a moment of beauty, solace, reflection, or hope into your lives and that the year ahead is brighter than this surreal stretch of time swirling around us. Here’s one final poem to savor by the great Linda Pastan (1932-).

Special thanks again to one of my dearest friends and kindred spirits, Kristina Closs, who brought a whole other layer to the poems this month with her beautiful and thoughtful illustrations. If you enjoyed her work, please visit her Etsy store where you can purchase prints–or contact her for custom commissions, which she will gladly work on with you.

Take good care, everyone.

Natalie

sugar bowl surrounded by gold leaves
Art by Kristina Closs

“What We Fear Most” 

for R after the accident

We have been saved one more time
from what we fear most.
Let us remember this moment.
Let us forget it if we can.
Just now a kind of golden dust
settles over everything:
the tree outside the window,
though it is not fall;
the cracked sugar bowl,
so carefully mended once.
This light is not redemption,
just the silt of afternoon sun
on an ordinary day,
unlike any other.

I pick them as I picked you

IMG_2949.jpg
Wildflowers in Carrizo Plain National Monument, 2016

From Aspects of Eve, by Linda Pastan (1932-).

“Wildflowers”

You gave me dandelions.
They took our lawn
by squatters’ rights—
round suns rising
in April, soft moons
blowing away in June.
You gave me lady slippers,
bloodroot, milkweed,
trillium whose secret number
the children you gave me
tell. In the hierarchy
of flowers, the wild
rise on their stems
for naming.
Call them weeds.
I pick them as I
picked you,
for their fierce,
unruly joy.

Words that wait are dark as shadows

A short but lingering poem from Linda Pastan (1932-).

 

“In Back Of”

“I’m looking for things back of remarks that are said . . . ”
–William Stafford

In back of “I love you”
stands “goodbye.”
In back of
“goodbye”
stands “it was lovely
there in the grass, drenched
in so much green
together.”
Words that wait
are dark as shadows
in the back rooms
of mirrors:
when you raise
your right hand
in greeting,
they raise their left
in farewell.