Summer Kitchen by Donald Hall

In Juneโ€™s high light she stood at the sink
            With a glass of wine,
And listened for the bobolink,
And crushed garlic in late sunshine.

I watched her cooking, from my chair.
            She pressed her lips
Together, reached for kitchenware,
And tasted sauce from her fingertips.

โ€œItโ€™s ready now. Come on,โ€ she said.
            โ€œYou light the candle.โ€
We ate, and talked, and went to bed,
And slept. It was a miracle.

โ€” Donald Hall

Otherwise by Jane Kenyon

I got out of bed
on two strong legs.
It might have been
otherwise. I ate
cereal, sweet
milk, ripe, flawless
peach. It might
have been otherwise.
I took the dog uphill
to the birch wood.
All morning I did
the work I love.
At noon I lay down
with my mate. It might
have been otherwise.
We ate dinner together
at a table with silver
candlesticks. It might
have been otherwise.
I slept in a bed
in a room with paintings
on the walls, and
planned another day
just like this day.
But one day, I know,
it will be otherwise.

โ€“ Jane Kenyon (via @KavehAkbar)

Kenyon's husband, the poet Donald Hall, has passed away at the age of 89. She died of leukemia in 1995 at the age of 47. Here's a remarkable look at their life together from Bill Moyers.

Says Henri Cole at The Paris Review: "He worked hard and now can rest."