from World Enough, and Time:
Call Me To Follow
for Adrienne Rich (1929-2012)
Call me from the garden where peonies rust and droop,
dahlias falter, heavy with blooms, tomatoes sprawl in dust
Where beetles ravage, wireworms burrow
and weeds grow best
there is much to nurture and protect
Call me from birdsong and sun on my back
scent of cilantro and mint
Call me from kitchens where I improvise,
stir love with basil, pasta, beans
Call me from stories my grandson makes
fireflies and castles in the sand
his eyelids fluttering as he dreams
Call me from play with words
their liquid and gravel sounds
mere whimsy, baubles
Call me from the path through woods to a view of the lake
from falcon’s dive, from garter snake
that lives among rocks by the waterfall
All that I love, where I could spend my life
Call me from failings, aches and pains,
lost memories, dead friends
from time that speeds up toward my own time’s end
All that will disappear, my personal grief
Call me from rest, dozing in the shade,
into the glare of another’s day
Call me from sleep into the dark
where I find myself
under stars of the daughter sold for bread
