I’m back with another poem by Maggie Smith from the same poetry anthology that I shared last week. I just finished reading my library copy of Good Bones and decided that I would share my favorite poems in that collection for the remainder of this month. Today’s poem is a nod to beginnings and makes a perfect companion to Good Bones.
Poetry Friday round-up is hosted by Kathryn Apel.
“My creative process is one of gathering and accruing. Like a magpie, a bird who collects any small, glittering bauble that catches its eye, I see or hear or read things that interest me all of the time.”
Rain, New Year’s Eve
The rain is a broken piano,
playing the same note over and over.
My five-year-old said that.
Already she knows loving the world
means loving the wobbles
you can’t shim, the creaks you can’t
oil silent—the jerry-rigged parts,
MacGyvered with twine and chewing gum.
Let me love the cold rain’s plinking.
Let me love the world the way I love
my young son, not only when
he cups my face in his sticky hands,
but when, roughhousing,
he accidentally splits my lip.
Let me love the world like a mother.
Let me be tender when it lets me down.
Let me listen to the rain’s one note
and hear a beginner’s song.