Nature rarer uses yellow
Than another hue;
Saves she all of that for sunsets,–
Prodigal of blue,

Spending scarlet like a woman,
Yellow she affords
Only scantly and selectly,
Like a lover’s words.

Ignoring the sexism in the spending phrase, this is one of the most succinct explanations of what makes this simple color so extraordinary.  It also has sensual notes, bittersweet longing, economy and a list of the primary colors.  It is simple and complex at the same time-everything art should be!  This is by far one of the most amazing poems I’ve ever read.

The other part about her work I love is her skepticism, even about her own skepticism.  She did not seem to take anything for granite.  While she did spend a great deal of time writing about death and the ‘after life’ that does not make her work dark or negative.  Many of us think about these things on a regular basis, she happened to have the skill to write poetry about it.

The other reason for me sharing this blog is to encourage the reading of poetry which too often seems to be forgotten.   For me art is a time capsule and interpretation brought together to help us better understand our past and present.  I will close with another poem that is fun to contemplate, especially for us freethinkers that are not fans of ‘the after life’ (sorry Prince, I haven’t gone that crazy yet)

I never felt at Home-Below–
And in the Handsome Skies
I shall not feel at Home-I know-
I don’t like Paradise-Because it’s Sunday-all the time-
And Recess-never comes-
And Eden’ll be so lonesome
Bright Wednesday Afternoons-If God could make a visit-
Or ever took a Nap-
So not to see us-but they say
Himself-a Telescope Perennial beholds us-
Myself would run away
From Him-and Holy Ghost-and All-
But there’s the “Judgement Day”!

I think it’s common for religious people to think atheists must be inherently unappreciative and thoughtless.  This is far from true in our house.  In fact, I happen to think the religious view that everything good comes from God is so simplistic it’s effectively mindless and therefore thoughtless.  But I digress.

So my daughter, C, who is in kindergarten, has a very good friend, K, who is being raised Mormon.  My husband and I get along with K’s parents very well.  They are genuinely nice people.  Of course, at playdates where I provide her dinner, K insists on saying a prayer before eating.  K took it upon herself to coach my daughter on the importance of this ritual and how to properly close her eyes and place her palms together in front of her.  I allowed this because I view it as a cultural exposure that I can discuss with C later.   But it became clear that C felt disadvantaged; she did not have her own similar expression she could teach K.  So I provided her with one that her dad and I agreed was a pretty good alternative.

I printed out a poem I had first encountered, ironically, in a 1984 movie Mel Gibson starred in about a farm family (The River).  In the movie, the kids say grace before eating, but what they say is so uncharacteristically nonreligious for a farm family I rewound the video and wrote it down for future use:

Earth, who gives to us this food

Sun, who makes it ripe and good

Dearest Earth, Dearest Sun,

We won’t forget what you have done.

Now, we’re not a family of nature worshippers, just nature appreciators.   And we explained to C that it’s not a “prayer” but is rather a poem that talks about how nature is the source of our life, a big part of which is the food we eat.  We asked C whether we can plant seeds in a god (“no”), water the ground with a god (“no, of course not”), dig the earth with a god instead of a shovel (“no, that’s silly!”), and pointed out the bees often help pollinate the crops, and bees aren’t gods, so nature is what our family thinks is important.  It’s appropriate to give credit to nature when we think about food.

C enthusiastically adopted and memorized “Dearest Earth.” The latest news is that when our little heathen C goes to K’s house for dinner, K’s family has instituted a rule.  If one girl says a prayer before the afterschool snack then the other girl gets to say her poem before the main meal.  Which I think is a graceful solution.