Jane Kenyon, 1978
I scrub the long floorboards
in the kitchen, repeating
the motions of other women
who have lived in this house.
And when I find a long gray hair
floating in the pail,
I feel my life added to theirs.
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I love Jane Kenyon. I love pastoral poetry. I know this isn’t one of them, but it always thrills my heart to see a poet I know represented out of the countless thousands that abound in history.