Gedicht
Jane Hirshfield
All the Difficult Hours and Minutes
All the Difficult Hours and Minutes
All the Difficult Hours and Minutes
All the difficult hours and minutesare like salted plums in a jar.
Wrinkled, turn steeply into themselves,
they mutter something the color of sharkfins to the glass.
Just so, calamity turns toward calmness.
First the jar holds the umeboshi, then the rice does.
© 2008, Jane Hirshfield
From: Poetry, Vol. 192, No. 2, May
Publisher: Poetry, Chicago
From: Poetry, Vol. 192, No. 2, May
Publisher: Poetry, Chicago
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All the Difficult Hours and Minutes
All the difficult hours and minutesare like salted plums in a jar.
Wrinkled, turn steeply into themselves,
they mutter something the color of sharkfins to the glass.
Just so, calamity turns toward calmness.
First the jar holds the umeboshi, then the rice does.
From: Poetry, Vol. 192, No. 2, May
All the Difficult Hours and Minutes
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