The Word

Tony Hoagland, 1992

 

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 as beautiful, it touches you

as if you had a friend

 

and sunlight were a present

he had sent you from some place 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.