© Bagpuss

A woman walks a field of chores
toward a gate too narrow
for her satchel of burdens.

Seven days’ work,
a friend’s death,
sick children.

The gate
             swings open.

She hesitates
until it starts to close, then
drops her pack, lurches through
before the latch clicks,

            by a shadow of grace.


written in response to Wendell Berry’s poem, “Sabbaths 1985, V”


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