Saturday, October 29, 2016

55th Letter: Third Mug of Folgers

I'm drinking the third mug of Folgers
at 3.20 am, and "working on poetry"
by reading it: Dylan Thomas, Marilyn Hacker,

and you. Often I wish you were more prolific
of poems and e-mails, but your silences
make me cherish your words all the more:

words that live, that help one to live,
that gladden and fortify, noble and pure
as candlelight vespers at St Ann's chapel,

wiser than politicians, kinder than a blanket
knitted over long months by a loved one's hands,
calm as a cloister in this loud leap-year.

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