Coming Home at Twilight in Late Summer by Jane Kenyon

Coming Home at Twilight in Late Summer

We turned into the drive,and gravel flew up from the tireslike sparks from a fire. So muchto be done—the unpacking, the mailand papers…the grass needed mowing….We climbed stiffly out of the car.The shut-off engine ticked as it cooled.

And then we noticed the pear tree,the limbs so heavy with fruitthey nearly touched the ground.We went out to the meadow; our stepsmade black holes in the grass;and we each took a pear,and ate, and were grateful.

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