It doesn't take much--
flour, water, yeast and salt,
and hours and such.
Brew tea. Fix toast and munch.
Observe a snow gust's somersault.
It doesn't take much.
Hen sets on her small clutch--
body's warmth over fragile vaults,
and hours and such--
feathers ragged to the touch.
Work of waiting without halt,
it doesn't take much.
Ceiling came too close to hutch
for candle flame--a burned spot
from hours and such.
This living . . . despite smutch,
learning to exult--
it doesn't take much.
Just hours and such.
flour, water, yeast and salt,
and hours and such.
Brew tea. Fix toast and munch.
Observe a snow gust's somersault.
It doesn't take much.
Hen sets on her small clutch--
body's warmth over fragile vaults,
and hours and such--
feathers ragged to the touch.
Work of waiting without halt,
it doesn't take much.
Ceiling came too close to hutch
for candle flame--a burned spot
from hours and such.
This living . . . despite smutch,
learning to exult--
it doesn't take much.
Just hours and such.
Love it! You've done a great job of using the repeated lines to good effect. (You'll want to correct the typo in line 13, which should read "too" close.) I especially like the stanza about the hen sitting over the "fragile vaults" -- wonderful image!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Beth! Yes, I just noticed that typo! Arg. I should probably walk away from poems, and then come back and recheck before posting!
DeleteI cherish this poem's intricate simplicity. And my favourite phrase is probably "Work of waiting" -- it seems to encapsulate the theme of the poem quite nicely.
ReplyDeleteYou might have inspired me to try my hand at a villanelle! It's been a while! A couple of months at least. Stay tuned!
Thanks, Tom! I enjoyed your villanelles!
DeleteThank you kindly, Elena!
Delete