All the Difficult Hours and Minutes Poem by Jane Hirshfield

All the Difficult Hours and Minutes



All the difficult hours and minutes
are like salted plums in a jar.
Wrinkled, turn steeply into themselves,
they mutter something the color of  sharkfins to the glass.
Just so, calamity turns toward calmness.
First the jar holds the umeboshi, then the rice does.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Jane Hirshfield

Jane Hirshfield

New York / United States
Close
Error Success