The Yellow Bowl

I can't wait until graduation when I can have a bit more time to put into literary endevors. As it is, most of the poems I've posted recently have been from the American Life in Poetry weekly newsletter. They're still good, but I'm hoping to post from a variety of other places (possibly even myself?) here in the near future.

Part of the intro from the newsletter said, "The great American poet William Carlos Williams taught us that if a poem can capture a moment in life, and bathe it in the light of the poet’s close attention, and make it feel fresh and new, that’s enough, that’s adequate, that’s good."

"The Yellow Bowl" by Rachel Contreni Flynn

If light pours like water
into the kitchen where I sway
with my tired children,

if the rug beneath us
is woven with tough flowers,
and the yellow bowl on the table

rests with the sweet heft
of fruit, the sun-warmed plums,
if my body curves over the babies,

and if I am singing,
then loneliness has lost its shape,
and this quiet is only quiet.