Saturday, January 30, 2010

She needs so little...


On this, a cold end of January, my little (well, she eats too much) charge has finally found peace next to a space heater, after a session of chewing on a platic bag or two.
How little our domesticated furry friends need, actually: Just our companionship, some food, water, and perhaps a view out at the local birds and cats.
Perhaps she would like to be outside in the garden, but not today. It may snow, or not. Garden made me think of a poem, written long ago, when I was unsure of saving a poinsettia. It died. If this is over-the-top maudlin, please tell me so.
But the poem reminds me on this cold morning that started too early, 3:00 a.m., watching the Women's final of the Australian Open, to find a balance. Camilla hits it. We could learn from our cats!
________________________
Garden

That was the same summer
My prize poinsettia died--
It grew in the yard
Tied to my will.

I watered and watched
Then backed off
To let it dry out a bit.

That the whole thing
Was a matter of too little
Or too much—
What’s the difference
When you find
You’ve lost your touch?

Kay Weeks 1979

January 30, 2010

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

maudlin...no. Sometimes very simple mundane events seem to inspire you to write. Often as I read, my thoughts use your poem as a point of departure. Sometimes when you ask what I think of a poem it is difficult to respond because the poem caused me to take a little sidetrip. Poinsetta is a good example because I began thinking of successes and failures in my own life. Looking back in time
...did it really matter. Harve Newlin






























































































































































my thoughts use your poem as a point of departure. This can have no connection at all with the subject of your poem.

Anonymous said...

The balance part is coming along. Thanks, Kay

Coastcard said...

Yes, Kay - the poem worked for me, just as it is. I feel a good poem should follow its metaphor (& this was a metaphor poem for me) through to its conclusion. I found myself caught up in the poem's world - which like all good poems, did not end with the final words on the page.

P.S. Camilla, you look so content!