Otherwise
by Jane Kenyon
I got out of bed
on two strong legs.
It might have been
otherwise. I ate
cereal, sweet
milk, ripe, flawless
peach. It might
have been otherwise.
I took the dog uphill
to the birch wood.
All morning I did
the work I love.
At noon I lay down
with my mate. It might
have been otherwise.
We ate dinner together
at a table with silver
candlesticks. It might
have been otherwise.
I slept in a bed
in a room with paintings
on the walls, and
planned another day
just like this day.
but one day, I know,
it will be otherwise.
2 comments:
A wonderful poem, Cherie. I read where Jane Kenyan and her poet husband, Donald Hall, always took an afternoon nap together. Sometimes, poets can be other than poets, they create poetry with their lives, like on a beautiful farm in Virgina.... :)
correction: Kenyon... ;(
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