Tag Archives: jane hirshfield

“My Skeleton” by Jane Hirshfield

Posted on May 5, 2015 by

My skeleton, who once ached with your own growing larger, are now, each year imperceptibly smaller, lighter, absorbed by your own concentration. When I danced, you danced. When you broke, I. And so it was lying down, walking, climbing the … Continue reading →

Posted in aging, death, poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Three Passover poems shared by three friends

Posted on April 19, 2014 by

On the second night of Passover, three Passover poems shared by friends: The first by Jane Hirshfield: xxxx In a Room with Five People, Six Griefs In a room with five people, six griefs. Some you will hear of, some not. … Continue reading →

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“Fado” by Jane Hirshfield

Posted on February 26, 2014 by

A man reaches close and lifts a quarter from inside a girl’s ear, from her hands takes a dove she didn’t know was there. Which amazes more, you may wonder: the quarter’s serrated murmur against the thumb or the dove’s … Continue reading →

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Vermont Wedding

Posted on November 1, 2013 by

Today my sister and her partner of almost 19 years got married on a warm, sunny, and windy afternoon in Vermont. xxx A Blessing for Wedding xxxx Today when persimmons ripen Today when fox-kits come out of their den into … Continue reading →

Posted in family, LGBTQ, poetry, romance | Tagged , , , , , | 3 Comments

“The Envoy” by Jane Hirshfield

Posted on May 8, 2013 by

One day in that room, a small rat. Two days later, a snake. Who, seeing me enter, whipped the long stripe of his body under the bed, then curled like a docile house-pet.x I don’t know how either came or … Continue reading →

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“Tree” by Jane Hirshfield

Posted on April 3, 2013 by

It is foolish to let a young redwood grow next to a house. xxx Even in this one lifetime, you will have to choose. xxx That great calm being, this clutter of soup pots and books — xxx Already the … Continue reading →

Posted in poetry, tree | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

“Meeting the Light Completely” by Jane Hirshfield

Posted on November 14, 2012 by

Even the long-beloved was once an unrecognized stranger. Just so, the chipped lip of a blue-glazed cup, blown field of a yellow curtain, might also, flooding and falling, ruin your heart. A table painted with roses. An empty clothesline. Each … Continue reading →

Posted in poetry, relationship | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment