Tuesday, December 1, 2020

Rain, New Year's Eve by Maggie Smith

Rain, New Year's Eve

      
The rain is a broken piano,
playing the same note over and over.
 
My five-year-old said that.
Already she knows loving the world
 
means loving the wobbles
you can't shim, the creaks you can't
 
oil silent—the jerry-rigged parts,
MacGyvered with twine and chewing gum.
 
Let me love the cold rain's plinking.
Let me love the world the way I love
 
my young son, not only when
he cups my face in his sticky hands,
 
but when, roughhousing,
he accidentally splits my lip.
 
Let me love the world like a mother.
Let me be tender when it lets me down.
 
Let me listen to the rain's one note
and hear a beginner's song. 



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