One of the Wonders

 

A candle and a thin sliver of slate

through which I can see the sky like a herd of wild horses

all blue backs and tangled manes of white, pink, champagne

behind hills of rock too thick to dream through.

I have blown chalk upon the slate and let it lie

for centuries or tuns or aeons...

Until you came along with your candle,

setting it behind the thin sliver of stone,

already imagining the earth as a great, hollow thing,

a giant now filled with you and everyone else.

Imagine that giant with two great candles

set behind the thin stone that flaked

from the bones of the sky, which was a giant

so large, 

the earth couldn't imagine how small

it was--

X-raying giants with only candles and art. 

Hello and welcome to another poetry blog inspired by the lovely Carrie at The Sunday Muse. We are prepping for what my phone insists is a Winter Storm heading our way, which has already consisted of bringing several pots in and lining them up on the kitchen table:

Which, yes, I know there are weeds among the plants and most of the pots haven't been prepared for spring but that's okay. Also, there's an onion that James handed me a few days ago with question "It's sprouting, do you want to plant it?" Sure, fine, at some point. Meanwhile, welcome to the table garden. Honestly, I've wanted a solarium for years because I hate schlepping water in the heat of the summer (when everything develops a suspicious wilt around 11 am--there is NO SHADE in this neighborhood) and I'm not complaining about a table full of plants. 

And, not to be overshadowed by a mere bagatelle of ice and snow (SNOW!!!! I am stupidly excited for the possibility of it), it's also Valentine's Day this Sunday:

Hope your week is warm in all the important ways and your muse is, like Tom Bodett, keeping the light on for you. 

-- Chrissa