Tuesday, June 3, 2008

In the Nursing Home

She is like a horse grazing
a hill pasture that someone makes
smaller by coming every night
to pull the fences in and in.

She has stopped running wide loops,
stopped even the tight circles.
She drops her head to feed; grass
is dust, and the creekbed's dry.

Master, come with your light
halter. Come and bring her in.

~ Jane Kenyon

1 comment:

Unknown said...

I love, love, love the poetry you two come up with.

~Jeremy