The Secret
By Denise Levertov
Two girls discover
the secret of life
in a sudden line of
poetry.
I who don’t know the
secret wrote
the line. They
told me
(through a third person)
they had found it
but not what it was
not even
what line it was. No doubt
by now, more than a week
later, they have forgotten
the secret,
the line, the name of
the poem. I love them
for finding what
I can’t find,
and for loving me
for the line I wrote,
and for forgetting it
so that
a thousand times, till death
finds them, they may
discover it again, in other
lines
in other
happenings. And for
wanting to know it,
for
assuming there is
such a secret, yes,
for that
most of all.
--------
Friday was a beautiful sunny day, though I spent a bunch of it in the basement after we realized in the early morning that we had the wrong week for the Vietnam Vets pickup (which is fine, gives us time to clear more stuff we never use out of the kitchen). I have finally gotten to the back corner bookcase formerly blocked by the treadmill -- anyone need Norton anthologies of American, English, or world literature from the 1990s?
We took a walk and saw a hawk, we had dinner with my parents, and we just watched the season finale of The Rings of Power, all of which I really loved and no internet trolls can ruin it for me -- yes, certain things could be predicted, but it's a prequel based on a historic franchise, and I like the actors and love the world-building! Now we're watching the vastly inferior Fate: The Winx Saga. Pumpkin festivities at Homestead Farm last weekend:
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