Birthday

 That fine – I'd say great – American poet Kay Ryan is 77 today. Which seems strange – I always think of her as a young poet. Forever young. The best of her poems will surely live. 
Here, to mark her birthday, is one in which, as so often, she illuminates, in a small and simple poem, a Big Subject. Big, difficult and uncomfortable...

The Fabric of Life

It is very stretchy.

We know that, even if

many details remain

sketchy. It is complexly

woven. That much too

has pretty well been

proven. We are loath

to continue our lessons

which consist of slaps

as sharp and dispersed

as bee stings from

a smashed nest

when any strand snaps—

hurts working far past

the locus of rupture,

attacking threads

far beyond anything

we would have said

connects.