May 10, 2007

I am posting two poems I have read several times before and it seems apropos with the accompanying picture of a woman I know quite well, intimately you might say. Enjoy the poems. The picture was taken at Malabar farm, the one-time home of the novelist Louis Bromfield.

By David Budbill

Out walking in the swamp picking cowslip, marsh marigold, this sweet first green of spring. Now sauteed in a pan melting to a deeper green than ever they were alive, this green, this life,

harbinger of things to come. Now we sit at the table munching on this message from the dawn which says we and the world are alive again today, and this is the world's birthday. And

even though we know we are growing old, we are dying, we will never be young again, we also know we're still right here now, today, and my oh my! don't these greens taste good.

By Grace Paley

Here I am in the garden laughing
an old woman with heavy breasts
and a nicely mapped face

how did this happen
well that's who I wanted to be

at last a woman
in the old style sitting
stout thighs apart under
a big skirt grandchild sliding
on off my lap a pleasant
summer perspiration

that's my old man across the yard
he's talking to the meter reader
he's telling him the world's sad story
how electricity is oil or uranium
and so forth I tell my grandson
run over to your grandpa ask him
to sit beside me for a minute I
am suddenly exhausted by my desire
to kiss his sweet explaining lips

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