Melita, where
to place you in your life?
Your own,
of course, which ends
And
starts, as all do, in its course –
Seen the
way a river is, at bends,
At
curves, the banks disclosed
Or
covered by green shade of trees.
This
coming close to any life, though
Is not
yet yours, quite: the metaphor`s
Too
general to do more than send
A mind
pond-skittering away, a stone –
We know
you more deeply than this –
The onlyness
of each one`s store
Of
actions, styles, ideas, graces:
In
gardens, with books, at races.
The smart
teaching girl, good wife –
Mother,
grandmother – kind if stern
Afraid of
fire as she had learned fire –
Cautious,
concerned, intelligent, careful
To
preserve – and gestures – how she
Brought
breadcrumbs slowly off
The
tablecloth with her palm as she talked.
How she
walked in the woods! A beautiful
Woman,
finally, whose many turns
Arrived at
no other shape than this one.
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