The Almanac of Last Things

From the almanac of last things
I choose the spider lily
for the grace of its belief
blossom, though myself
fear brevity,

but I choose The Song of Songs
because the flesh
of those pomegranates
has survived
all the frost of dogma.

I choose January with its chill
lessons of patience and despair -- and
August, too sun-truck for lessons.
I choose a thimbleful of red wine
to make my heart race,

then another to help me
sleep.  From the almanac
of last things I choose you,
as I have done before.
And I choose evening.

because the light clinging
to the window
is at its most reflective
just as it is ready
to go out.

Linda Pastan