Tag Archives: jane hirshfield

“My Skeleton” by Jane Hirshfield

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

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Three Passover poems shared by three friends

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

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

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

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“The Envoy” by Jane Hirshfield

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

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

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“Meeting the Light Completely” by Jane Hirshfield

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

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