Tuesday, January 24, 2006


Standing in the meadow with the brilliant
Sun sliding overhead
From rim to rim of the broad bowl of sky

It will drop over the lip and
Darkness will rise up like a spray
To rinse the world of its tired dust
In a colander of stars

You say this will happen again
But it will never happen again
Quite like this

In this way you see the days and nights
Unfold ahead of you
An endless path spiraling out

And you are only ever taking
This step


Blogger Frankie said...

I love the image of the "broad bowl of the sky" and that of a "colander of stars." Beautiful from start to finish.

1/24/2006 11:54 AM  
Anonymous yllstonewolf said...

how gorgeous!

1/24/2006 12:29 PM  
Blogger Mary said...

MB, I've returned to read this poem several times. Your bowl and colander images are effective because they startle slightly. And I really like the last two stanzas - beautiful. And all this before 9.30am! I don't know how you do it ....

1/24/2006 1:12 PM  
Blogger whiskey said...

A celestial banquet.

1/24/2006 2:29 PM  
Blogger Brenda said...

Nothing to say, except superb. I've read a few times over the course of the day, and love this poem more each time.

1/24/2006 4:23 PM  
Blogger alan said...

Beautiful! Thank you!!!


1/25/2006 2:51 AM  
Blogger MB said...

Frankie, I can imagine you out on that meadow. In bare feet, of course. It's a good space.

Anne, thank you.

Mary, I appreciate your comment: I hesitated, while writing this, to use those images for fear they'd be too odd. But sometimes I find it's the familiar in an unusual placement that works.

Oh, whiskey, thank you. And welcome, welcome. (And here I thought I might've relegated myself to the scullery after that colander bit!)

Brenda, I know I love it when I find something I want to revisit during the day. Something you've done for me before, of course.

Alan, thanks. I'm glad you enjoyed the poem. Good to have you here.

1/25/2006 9:42 PM  
Blogger Jean said...

"Juste ce jour,
Je veux me dissoudre dans
Le gris sans fin du ciel,
Je veux courir comme le bidon de sève
Sous des fleuves d'écorce d'arbre,
Je veux me remplier à l'intérieur du
Queue plume et ondulante d'un écureuil.

Juste ce jour,
Je veux suivre le vent
Sur ses manières
Autour des roches et
Parmi des grains du sable,
Glissade par des branches d'arbre
Et hérissez l'aile d'un oiseau."

J'adore ce texte , vous écrivez très très bien .
Je m'imagine bien suivant le vent ....

1/26/2006 7:23 AM  
Blogger MB said...

Jean... moi aussi, moi aussi: c'est une idee qui m'arrive souvent. Je dois dire que la poeme va bien en francais aussi! Vous avez de facilite pour la traduction. Merci.

1/26/2006 7:54 AM  
Blogger MB said...

...For those of you who don't speak French, Jean just translated the first two stanzas of "Sitting at the foot of the hill" into French. I must say, it works well in that language. He did a smooth job of translation.

1/26/2006 7:56 AM  
Blogger ruth said...

just stopping by and loving your words as ever...

1/26/2006 9:25 AM  
Blogger MB said...

Ruth, thank you for letting me know.

1/26/2006 9:59 AM  
Blogger zhoen said...

Lying on the ground in the summer, sliding through a bowl, yes, that is how it feels.

1/27/2006 12:40 PM  
Blogger MB said...

Yeah, and not unlike that big blue bowl trimmed with black and stars...

1/27/2006 3:26 PM  
Blogger Sue hardy-Dawson said...

You say this happen again, it will never happen again like this, the immeadiacy of the moment, that second that you hold in your hand

1/28/2006 12:09 PM  
Anonymous Jackal said...

Powerful ending!

1/28/2006 12:53 PM  
Anonymous qB said...

Yes. I love this.

1/29/2006 1:08 PM  
Blogger MB said...

Sue, you nailed it.

Jackal, I'm grateful that you found it so.

qb, welcome! Thanks for reading.

1/30/2006 11:30 AM  
Blogger garnet david said...

Good going! This is my kind of poem, philosophical, zenlike.

1/30/2006 8:06 PM  
Blogger MB said...

I don't always find it easy to write philosophically. I think it's easiest to write concretely. I'm glad you liked it.

1/31/2006 8:14 AM  

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