Gift of Words

Gift of Words

That patience of yours,
standing half the morning
to watch a rose you planted bloom.

So long like that, years,
you've waited for me.
I have to watch you always.

Crescent of melon, your bare back
where blouse and jeans have come apart.
The window's between us.

Too impatient to watch your roses,
I want my hands to feel
the equipoise of your hips.

You turn with a spray of roses,
a focus for my room,
fragrant cloud, I think you call them.

The petals will drop silently for days,
scented on these files and folders.
Sometimes I've heard them land.


from the sequence 'The Going' in Mortal Fire: A Selected Poems (Agenda Editions, 1976), copyright © Peter Dale 1976, used by permission of the author and Anvil Press.

Recordings

Peter Dale

Peter Dale Reading from His Poems

1Duologue

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2Over-Night Coach

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3Eighth Period

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4Starting Your Travels

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5Terrace

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6Crowd

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7Old Poet on a Rainy Day

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8The Swifts

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9Gift of Words

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10Keeper

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11Keepsake

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12The Mind’s Eye

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13Vigil

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14Wildflower

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15The Rose

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16The Thunder Stone

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17Storm

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18One Another

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19Fledgling

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20The Oak

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27Dusk

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28Long Evenings

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29Window

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30Last Wishes

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31Wall

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32Exorcism

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33Gifts (1)

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35Memento

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36A Woman Speaks to God the Father

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37The Hill

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38River

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39A Time to Speak ...

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40Journey

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41Autumn Colour

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42Bequest

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43Answer

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44Visitation

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45Nocturne

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34Gifts

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