Linda Gregg writes, “The dark thing is hardly visible/ in the leaves, under the sheen.” But it is there (and, reading the news, I understand it is nearly everywhere).

The bands and the folkloric dancers whetting our appetites for the coming weeks of celebration cannot camouflage it.

A Dark Thing Inside the Day

–Linda Gregg

So many want to be lifted by song and dancing

and this morning it is easy to understand.

I write in the sound of chirping birds hidden

in the almond trees, the almonds still green

and thriving in the foliage. Up the street,

a man is hammering to make a new house as doves

continue their cooing forever. Bees humming

and high above that a brilliant clear sky.

The roses are blooming and I smell the sweetness.

Everything desirable is here already in abundance.

And the sea. The dark thing is hardly visible

in the leaves, under the sheen. We sleep easily.

So I bring no sad stories to warn the heart.

All the flowers are adult this year. The good

world gives and the white doves praise all of it.

  • Consider translating the white doves’ praise, the bees’ humming, the chirping birds’ noise. Is it song, praise, complaint?

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