#10 winter solstice 2016

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Our cups were filled today by the many people who came by and by the many cups we in turn provided.

10 winter 2016.jpg

They know us by our lips. They know the proverb

about the space between us. Many slip.

They are older than their flashy friends, the glasses.

They held water first, are named in scripture.


Most are gregarious. You'll often see them

nestled in snowy flocks on trestle tables

or perched on trolleys. Quite a few stay married

for life in their own home to the same saucer,


and some are virgin brides of quietness

in a parlour cupboard, wearing gold and roses.

Handless, chipped, some live on in the flour bin,

some with the poisons in the potting shed.


Shattered, they lie in flowerpot, flowerbed, fowlyard.

Fine earth in earth, they wait for resurrection.

Restored, unbreakable, they'll meet our lips

on some bright morning filled with loving kindness.

--Gwen Harwood, "Cups"

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This page contains a single entry by Catherine White published on December 10, 2016 9:22 PM.

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