William Stafford came to mind today as I was having some difficulty feeling up to the task of resolving a design problem concerned with plant stands for flowers and herbs in the new atrium off the sun facing side of the house.
Years ago in North Carolina while fielding questions from the audience after a poetry reading of his work, someone asked Stafford how was it that he was able to write poem after poem everyday. Stafford’s response was that, like everyone, he woke up some mornings and knew that his genius had stayed asleep. “On these days,” he said, “I continue writing poems, but lower my expectations.”
With this in mind, I put down my tools.
And allowed the sweet fragrance of the first lemon blossoms to bloom at Windgrove carry me into contentment.
Yes
It could happen any time, tornado,
earthquake, Armageddon. It could happen.
Or sunshine, love, salvation.It could, you know. That’s why we wake
and look out — no guarantees
in this life.But some bonuses, like morning,
like right now, like noon,
like evening.William Stafford
Like this lemon blossom.
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