Poem: Unnamed | Poetry | Hudson Valley | Hudson Valley; Chronogram
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Poem: Unnamed 


The world asks you to surrender
more than you carry. A garden trowel
held loosely in a gingham apron pocket,
a watch burnished drab from ticking,
a feather found just when your belief
in feathers had vanished. So much is
asked of our tender human souls.
So many things we could never part with.
And, yet, on a day like every other day,
walking in sunlight down a hill,
the morning's flash-force glint touches
your breath and you stop, empty as
you dare to feel, and reach for something,
unnamed, to find the weight of it is comfort.

—Sharon Rousseau
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