A poem for Wednesday

I try to loosely think about the flow of my posts, how they sit next to each other. And I struggled for some time about what to put next to Sonia and touched the spines of many books on my shelves. Then I hit the poet Marie Ponsot.

And I suppose this could count as a second installment of Inspiring women, because Ponsot is herself a fierce, monster talent. Then I followed my finger down the index of Springing, hoping a title would stop me dead. This one did, though I thought too perfect and quickly turned to the page 109. I was not disappointed. When it comes to new discoveries, timing is everything, no?

Among women
What women wander?
Not many. All. A few.
Most would, now & then,
& no wonder.
Some, and I'm one,
Wander sitting still.
My small grandmother
Bought from every peddler
Less for the ribbons and lace
Than for their scent
Of sleep where you will,
Walk out when you want, choose
Your bread and your company.

She warned me, "Have nothing to lose."

She looked fragile but had
High blood, runner's ankles,
Could endure, endure.
She loved her rooted garden, her
Grand children, her once
Wild once young man.
Women wander
As best they can.
Related Posts with Thumbnails