Patience
When I think of Patience, an immediate memory is a beautiful golden retriever of that name, owned by a (very patient) English professor I had in grad school at Hollins College.
More recently, in days when patience seems to be in short supply, I call to mind a poem that I'd love to share with you. The author is Pat Schneider, from the book Another River: New and selected poems (c2005).
The Patience of Ordinary Things
It is a kind of love, is it not?
How the cup holds the tea,
how the chair stands sturdy and foursquare,
how the floor receives the bottoms of shoes or toes.
How soles of feet know where they're supposed to be.
I've been thinking about the patience
of ordinary things, how clothes
wait respectfully in closets
and soap dries quietly in the dish,
and towels drink the wet
from the skin of the back.
And the lovely repetition of stairs.
And what is more generous than a window?
More recently, in days when patience seems to be in short supply, I call to mind a poem that I'd love to share with you. The author is Pat Schneider, from the book Another River: New and selected poems (c2005).
The Patience of Ordinary Things
It is a kind of love, is it not?
How the cup holds the tea,
how the chair stands sturdy and foursquare,
how the floor receives the bottoms of shoes or toes.
How soles of feet know where they're supposed to be.
I've been thinking about the patience
of ordinary things, how clothes
wait respectfully in closets
and soap dries quietly in the dish,
and towels drink the wet
from the skin of the back.
And the lovely repetition of stairs.
And what is more generous than a window?
posted by Raisin at
2:55 PM
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