Poem for Monday, June 2, 2008

The Sleepless Grape

by Li-Young Lee

Like any ready fruit, I woke

falling toward beginning and

welcome, all of night

the only safe place.

Spoken for, I knew

a near hand would meet me

everywhere I heard my name

and the stillness ripening

around it. I found my inborn minutes

decreed, my death appointed

and appointing. And singing

gathers the earth

about my rest,

making of my heart a way home

the stars hold open.

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