I was inspired by Livinginwilloughby to pick up some poetry books from the library this past Sunday.
The book I picked for me is Counting the Waves by Deborah Cummings
If a Single Word
If a single word has the power to transform,
I’d have to propose choice.
I’d have to consider how Lot’s wife turned back,
her small glance all she needed,
knowing where to look among the towers for her house
where once she sang,spun cloth.
Tonight, walking the streets of my neighborhood,
I must consider as well my ancestral mothers
who delivered me here, who, after
their trunks were stowed, all children
accounted for,stood at the railing and watched
the shores of their homeland recede.
Here, where I live, no street name or sign or yard
is unfamiliar. I’m free
to contemplate every aspect of shadow
as darkeness descends early in late autumn,
free to stand here on my small piece of ground,
considering my house’s open door, its windows
lit against the night, and , if not transformed,
know gratitude, adding mine.
There are others that I will come back and share later. The littles are being 1 and 3 so I have to stop here for now.