Woke up this morning with
a terrific urge to lie in bed all day
and read. Fought against it for a minute.

Then looked out the window at the rain.
And gave over. Put myself entirely
in the keep of this rainy morning.

Would I live my life over again?
Make the same unforgivable mistakes?
Yes, given half a chance. Yes.
~Raymond Carver “Rain” from All of Us

I know what you planned, what you meant to do, teaching me
to love the world, making it impossible
to turn away completely, to shut it out completely over again–
it is everywhere; when I close my eyes,
birdsong, scent of lilac in early spring, scent of summer roses:
you mean to take it away, each flower, each connection with earth–
why would you wound me, why would you want me
desolate in the end, unless you wanted me so starved for hope
I would refuse to see that finally
nothing was left to me, and would believe instead
that you were left to me.
~Louise Glück “Vespers”

How swiftly the strained honey
of afternoon light
flows into darkness

and the closed bud shrugs off
its special mystery
in order to break into blossom

as if what exists, exists
so that it can be lost
and become precious
~Lisel Mueller “In Passing” from Alive Together: New and Selected Poems

By mid-November, we begin to lose daylight by 4PM. There is no wistful lingering with the descent of evening; the curtain is pulled closed and it is dark — just like that.

I’m having difficulty adjusting to the loss of daylight this year. This is perplexing as the change of seasons is no mystery to me. I sense a new deprivation beyond the fact that shorter days are simply a part of the annual autumnal routine.

As if –
something precious is being stolen away

as if –
I have any claim to the light to begin with

as if –
maybe I exist only to notice what ceases to exist.

So I am reminded:
I know there is more beyond feeling loss and lost.
I would do this all again, while feeling my way in the dark.
I will cling to the promise of what comes next.

I’m ready to break into blossom rather than hiding from the rain,
opening up to what light is left, instead of grumbling in the dark.