Atticus and I have been married for thirty-eight years. (Yes, those-of-you-who-are-young and young-ish, numbers do take on a frightening, other-worldly quality as you grow older. How are these numbers real?)
What we count as "the beautiful" has changed a lot over the course of thirty-eight years, but some things never change: my husband is kind, funny, intelligent, has an astounding memory for all things important, sentimental and trivial, has fabulous taste in music, is an amazing father, keeps everything afloat, and I love his cooking.
Happy anniversary, Atticus. If I live as long as Betty White did, we'll be celebrating another 38. I know you'll still be cooking. ❤️
The Beautiful Changes
by Richard Wilbur
One wading a Fall meadow finds on all sides
The Queen Anne’s Lace lying like lilies
On water; it glides
So from the walker, it turns
...
Your hands hold roses always in a way that says
They are not only yours; the beautiful changes
In such kind ways,
Wishing ever to sunder
Things and things’ selves for a second finding, to lose
For a moment all that it touches back to wonder.
Your hands hold roses always in a way that says
They are not only yours; the beautiful changes
In such kind ways,
Wishing ever to sunder
Things and things’ selves for a second finding, to lose
For a moment all that it touches back to wonder.
(Read the whole thing here, at The Poetry Foundation.)
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The Poetry Friday roundup this week is being hosted by Irene Latham.
