There is serenity at my kitchen sink
As water runs clear over the dishes in my hands,
Clear as the window I’m gazing through.
My eyes are slaking their thirst with the delight of new flowers.
Red-leafed maple, pink-flowering dogwood,
A swath of pale pink clematis, bluebells,
The white and rose cloud of the crabapple tree.
At the center of it all, nestled around a big terra cotta pot,
Is a glory of pansies, purple, white, and gold, orange and maroon.
They bloomed through the winter,
Lifting their faces to pale sun and dark clouds,
Shining with hope when ice pummeled them,
Shrugging the snow from green shoulders,
More than surviving.
I know a woman like that,
And through her, with her, I myself learn to live.