The Windows
How do you earn a life going on
Behind yellow windows, writing at night
The Latin names of plants for a garden,
Opening the front door to a wet dog?
Those you love forgive you, clearly,
With steaming casseroles and red wine.
It’s the same film down all the suburban streets,
It’s a Wonderful Life. How do you learn it?
What you hear – the doorbell’s familiar chime.
What you touch – the clean, warm towels.
What you see what you smell what you taste
All tangible to the stranger passing your gate.
There you are again, in a room where those early hyacinths
Surely sweeten the air, and the right words wait
In the dictionaries, on the tip of the tongue you touch
In a kiss, drawing your crimson curtains now
Against dark hours. And again, in a kitchen,
The window ajar, sometimes the sound of your radio
Or the scent of your food, and a cat in your arms, a child in your arms, a lover. Such vivid flowers.
In New Selected Poems by Carol Ann Duffy, Picador 2004
