Jane Hirshfield

1. I am looking out my window, trying to understand the presence of rain on a hot April afternoon. I had a list of things to do in my head: answer letters, book a flight, read a book, get some work

1. I am leaving in awhile. I know it's the right thing to do. I need to get away from the city, from all of this. 2. When I planned this trip, it was just out of a whim. And now, six

I think I embarrassed myself last night. Oh, T. Why do you have to open your mouth? The Promise Jane Hirshfield Stay, I said to the cut flowers. They bowed their heads lower. Stay, I said to the spider, who fled. Stay, leaf. It reddened, embarrassed for me and itself. Stay, I

Today my parents are celebrating their twenty-ninth year of marriage. I look at them and can't believe they're still fooling themselves. My father's fingers, devoid of a ring. My mother's gaze, unfeeling. Not Yet Jane Hirshfield Morning of buttered toast; of coffee, sweetened,

Last Friday was one of those rare evenings that I find myself out with friends (being introvert I always have too many excuses — it's too far, it's too late, I'm busy, I'm sick, I'm depressed, etc.). I attended J's

Lying in bed. Thinking and not thinking. Three Times My Life Has Opened Jane Hirshfield Three times my life has opened. Once, into darkness and rain. Once, into what the body carries at all times within it and starts to remember each time it enters

Beginning again. Hello, August. Da Capo Jane Hirshfield Take the used-up heart like a pebble and throw it far out. Soon there is nothing left. Soon the last ripple exhausts itself in the weeds. Returning home, slice carrots, onions, celery. Glaze them in oil before adding the lentils, water,