Sometimes the miracle of new life comes with fur and purrs when you hold her. Sometimes that’s enough.
One need not go further than a white towel hung in an open door.
— Carolyn Forché, from “In the Exclusion Zones” (Blue Hour)
AFTER THE ALPHABETS
I am trying to decipher the language of insects
they are the tongues of the future
their vocabularies describe buildings as food
they can depict dark water and the veins of trees
they can convey what they do not know
and what is known at a distance
and what nobody knows
they have terms for making music with the legs
they can recount changing in a sleep like death
they can sing with wings
the speakers are their own meaning in a grammar without horizons
they are wholly articulate
they are never important they are everything
— W.S. Merwin, from his 1988 book The Rain in the Trees. Copyright © 1988 by W. S. Merwin.
Merwin died this month at the age of 91.
More rain to quench a thirsty land.
As we turn the corner into a new year, I’m looking for that joy that cometh in the morning.