She is like a horse grazing
a hill pasture that someone makes
smaller by coming every night
to pull the fences in and in.
She has stopped running wide loops,
stopped even the tight circles.
She drops her head to feed; grass
is dust, and the creekbed’s dry.
Master, come with your light
halter. Come and bring her in.
In the Nursing Home by Jane Kenyon
My dear Aunt Dot is having a rough time of it. Almost 90 and never married, she recently had to move to a nursing home in the
area. She is not just an ordinary aunt,
but someone who has had a profound and lasting influence on my life. While visiting her last week I reminded her
of all that we have in common, which includes a love of reading, travel, movies
and opera, devotion to the Episcopal Church, and a taste for wine. But what I meant to say to her was Thank you, Dot, for opening my eyes to a big
beautiful world and for taking me along on your journey.