So Soft But It Makes a Hub

And all your years have brought you here
Where you might stay, at most, a day,

Where the gold air swells like a pear
Still sweet with fall, but sharp, but chilled,

A day that seems raw and hard, starred
With specks of green and blush, a scene

That yields to your gaze and gives back
Browned-grass fields herds of grey deer graze,

Thin streams that had once been in flood,
Streaks of sun you brush from your cheek.

Bite down on it. Breathe. This is it.
So soft! Take it. It’s yours. No cost.

Or Pea, or Bean, or Wort, or Beet

It’s said there’s more to a mate
Than spare bare legs in a bed.
You don’t need art on your walls
To grace the eyes in your head.

A plain day, a calm life—
What you get, once you’re pleased
With what you get, proves sweet
As what you’d wished you’d get.