Even
a small purple artichoke
boiled
in its own bittered
and darkening
waters
grows tender,
grows tender and sweet
a small purple artichoke
boiled
in its own bittered
and darkening
waters
grows tender,
grows tender and sweet
patience, I think,
my species
my species
keep testing the spiny leaves
the spiny heart
Jane Hirshfield, My species
I love this poem
Hi. Thanks for your comment. Yeah, the poem is lovely and life’s events sure do work on the heart. I really like the poet, so check out some of her other stuff, Best wishes, Karl