Our Heart Wanders by Jack Gilbert

OUR HEART WANDERS

Jack Gilbert

Our heart wanders lost in the dark woods.

Our dream wrestles in the castle of doubt.

But there's music in us. Hope is pushed down

but the angel flies up again taking us with her.

The summer mornings begin inch by inch

while we sleep, and walk with us later

as long-legged beauty through

the dirty streets. It is no surprise

that danger and suffering surround us.

What astonishes is the singing.

We know the horses are there in the dark

meadow because we can smell them,

can hear them breathing.

Our spirit persists like a man struggling

through the frozen valley

who suddenly smells flowers

and realizes the snow is melting

out of sight on top of the mountain,

knows that spring has begun.

A Baker Swept By, Edward Hirsch

I love this poem by Edward Hirsch

A Baker Swept By

You were already

losing your eyesight

last winter in Rome

when you paused in the doorway

at nine o’clock on a Saturday morning

and a baker swept by

on a shiny bicycle

waving a cap and singin

under his breath,

you didn’t know bakers wore

white aprons dusted with flour

and floated around the city like angels

on a freshly baked day,

you weren’t sure why

morning halted

up and down the street

as you stood in the doorway

and a baker winged by

on a weekend morning

so new and pristine

that you looked into the sky

and for one undiminished instant

of misplaced time

you saw brightness,

brightness everywhere,

before a shadow crossed

the rooftops

and it was blotted out.