Every so often, I read The Writer’s Almanac with Garrison Keillor. Ha! I wish I were reading it with Garrison Keillor. I can just imagine…
He posts a poem every day, and a few months ago, he put up a poem that I have been thinking about ever since. It’s titled “The Word” and is written by Tony Hoagland. I pasted it here, but you can also visit it here.
The Word
by Tony Hoagland
Down near the bottom
of the crossed-out list
of things you have to do today,
between “green thread”
and “broccoli,” you find
that you have penciled “sunlight.”
Resting on the page, the word
is beautiful. It touches you
as if you had a friend
and sunlight were a present
he had sent from someplace distant
as this morning—to cheer you up,
and to remind you that,
among your duties, pleasure
is a thing
that also needs accomplishing.
Do you remember?
that time and light are kinds
of love, and love
is no less practical
than a coffee grinder
or a safe spare tire?
Tomorrow you may be utterly
without a clue,
but today you get a telegram
from the heart in exile,
proclaiming that the kingdom
still exists,
the king and queen alive,
still speaking to their children,
—to any one among them
who can find the time
to sit out in the sun and listen.
“The Word” by Tony Hoagland, from Sweet Ruin. © University of Wisconsin Press, 1992.
