I fell asleep early on the couch last night, and now it is time to read a little before work so my brain doesn’t catch fire. Therefor, I am stealing (re-typing) a poem by Galway Kinnell for today; I took the picture.
When one has lived a long time alone,
and the hermit thrush calls and there is an answer,
and the bullfrog head half out of the water utters
the cantillations he sang in his first spring,
and the snake lowers himself over the threshold
and creeps away among the stones, one sees
they all live to mate with their kind, and one knows,
after a long time of solitude, after the many steps taken
away from one’s kind, toward these other kingdoms,
the hard prayer inside one’s own singing
is to come back, if one can, to one’s own,
a world almost lost, in the exile that deepens,
when one has lived a long time alone.
Blown away, as always, by you.