Pearls in Minutiae
I take in everything at once, flowers
and foliage, sparkling water and the mud,
clip reams of daily Post over breakfast,
news in a slew of boxes lest I forget what I read.
Dust the den add a candle
to the only bare spot in the window's bow.
Day is a panorama. Words scramble onto paper.
I piddle and spin from well to well
task by task, adding more as I go
drop limp at the knees, cradle my head
an arm's length from yet another poem.
You aim for one target,
photo-shoot the snow on our roof when not
emptying the spouts,
research a year before buying a car,
paint a bowl of ripe fruit, or clear a patch
of weeds to root, put work to rest and digest.
Long time together shows us how to
sit in the other's heart, lend grace at day's end,
see pearls in the huge kaleidoscopic sphere
of our differences. I leave the study
of logic to you.
—Kathleen Adcock
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previously appeared in Moon, Trumpet and Guitar