Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Saturday, November 12, 2011
It wakes when I wake,
walks when I walk,
turns back when I turn back,
beating me to the door.
It spoils my food and steals my sleep,
and mocks me, saying, "Where is your God now?”
And so, like a widow,
I lie down after supper.
If I lie down or sit up it's all the same: the days and nights bear me along.
To strangers I must seem alive.
Spring comes, summer; cool, clear weather; heat, rain..
~ Jane Kenyon,