Poetry: Philosophy in Warm Weather

Philos­o­phy in Warm Weather
–Jane Kenyon

Now all the doors and windows
are open, and we move so easily
through the rooms. Cats roll
on the sun­ny rugs, and a clum­sy wasp
climbs the pane, pausing
to rub a leg over her head.

All around phys­i­cal life reconvenes.
The mol­e­cules of our bod­ies must love
to exist: they whirl in circles
and seem to begrudge us nothing.
Heat, Hor­a­tio, heat makes them
put this antic dis­po­si­tion on!

This year’s brown spider
sways over the door as I come
and go. A sin­gle pop­py shouts
from the far field, and the crow,
beyond alarm, goes right on
pulling up the corn.

From her book The Boat of Qui­et Hours