J U L Y 1 9 9 9
APPLEby Jane Hirshfield
Hear Jane Hirshfield read this poem (in RealAudio).
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Also by Jane Hirshfield:
The Song (1986)
Within This Tree (1991)
The Love of Aged Horses (1994)
Three Foxes by the Edge of the Field at Twilight (1996)
The Poet (1997)
An Audible Anthology
I woke and remembered
nothing of what I was dreaming.
The day grew light, then dark again --
In all its rich hours, what happened?
A few weeds pulled, a few cold flowers
carried inside for the vase.
A little reading. A little tidying and sweeping.
I had vowed to do nothing I did not wish
to do that day, and kept my promise.
Once, a certain hope came close
and then departed. Passed by me in its familiar
shawl, scented with iodine woodsmoke.
I did not speak to it, nor it to me.
Yet still the habit of warmth traveled
between us, like an apple shared by old friends.
One takes a bite, then the other.
They do this until it is gone.
Jane Hirshfield teaches in the Bennington College M.F.A. writing seminars. Her most recent books are Lives of the Heart (1997), a collection of poetry, and Nine Gates: Entering the Mind of Poetry (1997), a book of essays.
Copyright © 1999 by The Atlantic Monthly Company. All rights reserved.
The Atlantic Monthly; July 1999; Apple; Volume 284, No. 1; page 49.