Otherwise
by Jane Kenyon

“I got out of bed
on two strong legs.
It might have been
otherwise. I ate
cereal, sweet
milk, ripe, flawless
peach. It might
have been otherwise.
I took the dog uphill
to the birchwood.
All morning I did
the work I love.
At noon I lay down
with my mate. It might
have been otherwise.
We ate dinner together
at a table with silver
candlesticks. It might
have been otherwise.
I slept in a bed
in a room with paintings
on the walls, and
planned another day
just like this day.
But one day, I know,
it will be otherwise.” 

*

One of my favourite poems.

“I planned another day just like this day”: picking flawless and flawed (all delicious) peaches from the trees in the light rain; watching the monarch chrysalis on day seven for signs of readiness, and worrying about the swallowtail caterpillar remaining in one spot on the dill so long; savouring the indigo of the willow gentian flowers; making dinner, making peach bread, working out and feeling strong and limber, reading lovely emails from friends, sipping a luscious Côtes du Rhône; looking forward to reading my book in bed tonight.

One day, maybe tomorrow, it will be otherwise. But for now, I have flawless peaches.

*

This is the season of peaches, for about two weeks. The season of too many peaches — but of just the right number of neighbours and friends who come to share in our peach richness.

*

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