{"id":3541,"date":"2013-12-13T09:29:29","date_gmt":"2013-12-13T07:29:29","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/?p=3541"},"modified":"2013-12-13T09:29:29","modified_gmt":"2013-12-13T07:29:29","slug":"aimless-love","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/?p=3541","title":{"rendered":"Aimless love"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"uj5rk\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Aimless love<\/strong><\/p>\n

This morning as I walked along the lakeshore,
I fell in love with a wren
and later in the day with a mouse
the cat had dropped under the dining room table.<\/p>\n

In the shadows of an autumn evening,
I fell for a seamstress
still at her machine in the tailor\u2019s window,
and later for a bowl of broth,
steam rising like smoke from a naval battle.<\/p>\n

This is the best kind of love, I thought,
without recompense, without gifts,
or unkind words, without suspicion,
or silence on the telephone.<\/p>\n

The love of the chestnut,
the jazz cap and one hand on the wheel.<\/p>\n

No lust, no slam of the door \u2013
the love of the miniature orange tree,
the clean white shirt, the hot evening shower,
the highway that cuts across Florida.<\/p>\n

No waiting, no huffiness, or rancor \u2013
just a twinge every now and then<\/p>\n

for the wren who had built her nest
on a low branch overhanging the water
and for the dead mouse,
still dressed in its light brown suit.<\/p>\n

But my heart is always propped up
in a field on its tripod,
ready for the next arrow.<\/p>\n

After I carried the mouse by the tail
to a pile of leaves in the woods,
I found myself standing at the bathroom sink
gazing down affectionately at the soap,<\/p>\n

so patient and soluble,
so at home in its pale green soap dish.
I could feel myself falling again
as I felt its turning in my wet hands
and caught the scent of lavender and stone.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

from the volume “Aimless love”<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0Billy Collins<\/blockquote> <\/i><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u00a0<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[9],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3541","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-contemporary-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3541","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=3541"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3541\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3544,"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3541\/revisions\/3544"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=3541"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=3541"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.magdalenabiela.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=3541"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}