Sunday, November 24, 2013

She had become my Sabbath

All Last Night

All last night I had quiet
In a fragrant dream and warm:
She had become my Sabbath,
And round my neck, her arm.

I knew the warmth in my dreaming;
The fragrance, I suppose,
Was her hair about me,
Or else she wore a rose.

Her hair I think, for likest
Woodruffe 'twas, when Spring
Loitering down the wet woodways
Treads it sauntering.

No light, nor any speaking;
Fragrant only and warm.
Enough to know my lodging,
The white Sabbath of her arm.

Lascelles Abercrombie

Monday, November 4, 2013

Saturday, November 2, 2013

some other year

I told you: look, it is snowing!

It was beginning 
just then, outside 

in the winter sunlight,
first flakes erratic and 

quick, from a cloud-
swept wilderness.

You were three years old.
I loved you, and

the same snow was falling 
in some other year

when I was lonely.

for Maggie, Anna, and Ben