Purple, Purple, Twilight Sky light.

Purple as a king's cape Purple as a grape.

Purple for the evening When daylight is leaving.

Soft and purry, Gentle and furry, Velvet evening-time.

Purple, Purple. Sky light Goodbye light.

Dusky Musky Into night.

Simple poem to my fav part of the day: evening.

I'm learning to say thank you. And I'm learning to say please. And I'm learning to use Kleenex, Not my sweater, when I sneeze. And I'm learning not to dribble. And I'm learning not to slurp. And I'm learning (though it sometimes really hurts me) Not to burp. And I'm learning to chew softer When I eat corn on the cob. And I'm learning that it's much Much easier to be a slob.

A great find! This poem resonates with me much because I had issues about some of these things in my relationships, sometimes the most trivial things matter so much that the most/more important things are fogotten. Some of my fav sonnets in Vikram Seth's Golden Gate, deal with these questions. But what can I say, I have learnt some and I still am.

Lord let me suffer much and then die

Let me walk through silence and leave nothing behind not even fear

Make the world continue let the ocean kiss the sand just as before

Let the grass stay green so that the frogs can hide in it

so that someone can bury his face in it and sob out his love

Make the day rise brightly as if there were no more pain

And let my poem stand clear as a windowpane bumped by a bumblebee's head

2002:11:28 09:00 Atlanta

I was searching for a poem to read today at a Thanksgiving table that I had been invited to, as I couldn't get around to writing one myself. So late yesterday evening I went to the bookstore to look at one of my fav anthologies of poetry: A Book of Luminous Things by Czeslaw Milosz,also winner of the 1980 Nobel Prize for Literature. In that book I found this beautiful poem written by an old Polish woman who apparently was a deeply resonant spirit. I think that comes out in this poem.

So happy Thanksgiving everyone. It's good to reflect on things that have been given and things that have been taken away, all in a process of restoring this tiny universe we live to a place of perfect balance, the balance of poem as clear as a windowpane with bees bumping into it.

Much joy! S

PS: One should also listen to Bach's Cello Suite No 1 by Yo Yo Ma as one reads the above poem!