Beginnings

The weather turns off cold; my instincts go domestic. For days I smell of onion

and homemade pumpkin soup. A woman, everything

comes down to love.

Sewing for my child

I think how even thread Becomes a parent,

stitching up the woolen halves Of cloth into a whole.

Outside the rain is beating

a mat of yellow leaves; I don't believe

in endings.

You've read  of  free articles. Subscribe to continue.
QR Code to Beginnings
Read this article in
https://www.csmonitor.com/1987/1105/ubegin.html
QR Code to Subscription page
Start your subscription today
https://www.csmonitor.com/subscribe