One cold night in February
with snow from last week’s storm
still piled up against the door,
a old friend phoned and asked,
“How are you?”
To our surprise, I said,
”I feel like a wooden chest
made in Prague or Warsaw
too many years ago to mention,
painted yellow, like the sun,
but faded after miles and years
of bruises, dents and scuffs.
“A chest discovered in a thrift store
in West L.A. by two friends,
one brunette, the other blonde,
who took it home and set it in
a sunny corner near the door
so it would be the first thing seen
by all who came to visit.
“On its top, they put a green glass lamp
and three glass bowls, with
slender shoots of young bamboo–
all light, all green, all bright
all Spring.”
© 2004 J.M. Keating