I’m away from my desk for the next few days. Here’s a short poem by Jane Hirshfield until some more of my own work emerges from the notebook.
Vinegar and Oil – Jane Hirshfield
Wrong solitude vinegars the soul,
right solitude oils it.
How fragile we are, between the few good moments.
Coming and going unfinished,
puzzled by fate,
like the half-carved relief
of a fallen donkey, above a church door in Finland.
– published online in The Atlantic – 1 June 2008 –