The Hungry Philosopher

Reads, Writes, Eats and Cooks

Poetics of Buttered Toast

Not Yet

by Jane Hirshfield

Morning of buttered toast;
of coffee, sweetened, with milk.

Out the window,
snow-spruces step from their cobwebs.
Flurry of chickadees, feeding then gone.
A single cardinal stipples an empty branch—
one maple leaf lifted back.

I turn my blessings like photographs into the light;
over my shoulder the god of Not-Yet looks on:

Not-yet-dead, not-yet-lost, not-yet-taken.
Not-yet-shattered, not-yet-sectioned,
not-yet-strewn.

Ample litany, sparing nothing I hate or love,
not-yet-silenced, not-yet-fractured; not-yet-

Not-yet-not.

I move my ear a little closer to that humming figure,
I ask him only to stay.

“Not Yet” by Jane Hirshfield from The Lives of the Heart. © Harper Collins, 1997. Reprinted with permission. (buy now)

From the Writer’s Almanac

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About lsbanu

I cook, eat, read and write.

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This entry was posted on December 2, 2014 by in Food Writing, Literature and tagged , , , .
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