Too Full

I am not available
At the moment
Except to myself.

Downstairs the plumber
Is emptying the big tank,
The pump pumped on and on
And might have worn out.

So many lives pour into this house,
Sometimes I get too full;
The pump wears out.

So now I am emptying the tank.
It is not an illness
That keeps me from writing.
I am simply staying alive
As one does
At times by taking in,
At times by shutting out.

A Winter Notebook


pattinase (abbott) said...

I just love her writing. Esp On Plants Dreaming.

pattinase (abbott) said...

Sorry I had to run and check out the title. Plants Dreaming Deep.

Anonymous said...

Her writing is soothing to the soul during trying times.