And you wait, are awaiting the one thing
that will infinitely increase your life;
the powerful, the uncommon,
the awakening of stones,
depths turned towards you.
Dimly there gleam in the bookcase
the volumes in gold and brown;
and you think of lands journeyed through,
of pictures, of the apparel
of women lost again.
And you know all at once: That was it.
You arise, and before you stands
a bygone year’s
anguish and form and prayer.
More this weekend on knitting, the apartment, and visits from parental figures.
*The word around the blog-town is that it’s St. Brigid’s Day, but that was actually yesterday. Today is Candlemas, otherwise known as (among other variations), the Presentation of Christ in the Temple. Either way, it’s a good day. Especially since, in secular lore, Puxatawney Phil didn’t see his shadow and spring is on its way!