We wear clothes, and speak, and create civilizations, and believe we are more than wolves. But inside us there is a word we cannot pronounce and that is who we are.
Why should you worry about the future? You don’t even know the present properly. Take care of the present and the future will take care of itself.
Winter is for women —
The woman, still at her knitting,
At the cradle of Spanish walnut,
Her body a bulb in the cold and too dumb to think.
Will the hive survive, will the gladiolas
Succeed in banking their fires
To enter another year?
What will they taste of, the Christmas roses?
The bees are flying. They taste the spring.
Let go of your need for perfection, just seek to be present in everything you do
Her thoughts like poppies go to sleep
in their clothes
with no west wind to iron out the
creases in the morning.