Saturday, September 5, 2015

Gary Margolis: "I haven't met anyone who hasn't offered me her humanity"

on this sojourn. Or his.
These days I have stepped away
from my life among the maples

and elms. And have found more
than September’s pears,
here by the salt marsh.

These bronze bells.
A woman, by the side
of the road, building a stone

wall, her knees in a ditch,
tells me to go ahead
and pick one. Or wait for

the wind to drop a handful
into my hat. I have removed.
In the presence of a sudden god

waiting for anyone to appear
this morning, who doesn’t
know what he needs to be

offered. To receive more
than he imagined a few days away
could provide. To see a storm

of maple leaves as the tides they are.
The apples, at home, their own kind
of burnishing, rented pear.

"I haven't met anyone who hasn't offered me her humanity" by Gary Margolis. © Gary Margolis. Presented here by poet submission.

Art credit: Untitled photograph of Conference pears, likely by Debby Hatch at Lopez Island Kitchen Gardens.


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