I make note of this bright hour,
passed in the quiet, alone.

No song is its equal, no poem,
only the joy a child knows.

I mark my hunger and thirst,
my tired muscles, fingers, and bones.

I set down my ignorance;
beside it, I place all I understand.

Let the two know one another.
Let them smile and become friends.

January 25, 2006

Previous Entry     Next Entry     Return to Songs and Letters     About the Author

Main Page
Author�s Note
A Listening Thing
Among the Living
No Time to Cut My Hair
One Hand Clapping
Songs and Letters
Collected Poems
Early Short Stories
Armenian Translations
News and Reviews
Highly Recommended
Let�s Eat
Favorite Books & Authors
Useless Information
E-mail & Parting Thoughts

Flippantly Answered Questions

Top of Page