Easy

Leave it to the graceful Marie Ponsot, now in her late eighties, to view her life in poetry as easeful. As she tells us, pondering what stones can hear, Between silence and sound / we are balancing darkness, / making light of it. Ponsot so beautifully makes light of all she touches; after more than a half century at her craft, she is accepting of what has come, whether it's a joyous memory of her second-grade teacher in New York public school or the feeling of being Orphaned Old, less...
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Leave it to the graceful Marie Ponsot, now in her late eighties, to view her life in poetry as easeful. As she tells us, pondering what stones can hear, Between silence and sound / we are balancing darkness, / making light of it. Ponsot so beautifully makes light of all she touches; after more than a half century at her craft, she is accepting of what has come, whether it's a joyous memory of her second-grade teacher in New York public school or the feeling of being Orphaned Old, less lucky in life since her parents died. She holds herself to the highest standard: to see clearly, to think, to deal openhandedly with the world, to Go to a wedding / as to a funeral: / bury the loss and also to Go to a funeral / as to a wedding: / marry the loss. This beloved poet, who confides that she meets works of great art expectant and thirsty, inspires the same spirit in her readers.
Glad tired gaudy
we are more than we thought
& as ready as we'll ever be.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
On dancing day
we'll belt out tunes we'll step to
together
till it's time for us to say
there's nothing more to say
nothing to pay no way
pay no mind pay no heed
pay as we go.
from Dancing Day II