Robin Becker

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poem 1 | poem 2 | poem 3

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The Island of Daily Life

 This one is for Sandy
     who loves poems about ordinary things.
          For her, I'll keep my abstractions

      to a minimum and praisea
 the open carpentry of the summer cabins
     for their impromptu shelves

          where every ledge invites a wildflower bouquet
     or a drawing from a child at camp
 or a special stone plucked from the lake,

 and I praise the lake
     with its dappled beach and sloping light,
          the comforting iterations

     of rowboat, bathing cap, splash,
 where lakefront trees and small docks
     flare in the late afternoon, and a neighbor

          calls softly to her daughter it's time
     to go, don't forget your things...
 This poem gets up early for the Saturday

 yard sale and celebrates the evening
     walk across the mowing
           through low-bush blueberries

     in the shadow of Monadnock
 to Miriam's for dinner
      on the screened-in porch.

          Sometimes guests from the city.
     Always the dog in his summer
 haircut announcing his arrival.

 This poem honors the poached fish and the beans,
     the goat cheese and the wine,
          the poems read aloud after dinner

     for their attention
  to the quiddities, to aspects
     of our communal selves,

          sheared of the theoretical.
     This poem celebrates the passing
 of the dish and the return of the bowl,

 the full moon now high
     above the August lakes, shining
          on a thousand forgotten beach books.

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