Jane Hirshfield

A chair in snow should be like any other object whited & rounded and yet a chair in snow is always sad more than a bed more than a hat or house a chair is shaped for just one thing to hold a soul its quick and few bendable hours perhaps a king not to hold snow not to hold flowers

Today when persimmons ripen Today when fox-kits come out of their den into snow Today when the spotted egg releases its wren song Today when the maple sets down its red leaves Today when windows keep their promise to open Today when fire keeps its promise to warm Today when someone you love has died or someone you never met has died Today when someone you love has been born or someone you will not meet has been born Today when rain leaps to the waiting of roots in their dryness Today when starlight bends to the roofs of the hungry and tired Today when someone sits long inside his last sorrow Today when someone steps into the heat of her first embrace Today, let this light bless you With these friends let it bless you With snow-scent and lavender bless you Let the vow of this day keep itself wildly and wholly Spoken and silent, surprise you inside your ears Sleeping and waking, unfold itself inside your eyes Let its fierceness and tenderness hold you Let its vastness be undisguised in all your days

Little soul, you have wandered lost a long time. The woods all dark now, birded and eyed. Then a light, a cabin, a fire, a door standing open. The fairy tales warn you: Do not go in, you who would eat will be eaten. You go in. You quicken. You want to have feet. You want to have eyes. You want to have fears.

All the difficult hours and minutes are like salted plums in a jar. Wrinkled, turn steeply into themselves, they mutter something the color of  sharkfins to the glass. Just so, calamity turns toward calmness. First the jar holds the umeboshi, then the rice does.