How to Drink Water When There Is Wine
by Barbara Kingsolver
How to stay at this desk when the sun is barefooting cartwheels over the grass —
How to step carefully on the path that begs for the fleet unfettered gait of a deer —
How to go home again when the wood thrush is promising the drunk liquid bliss of dusk —
How to resist the kiss, the body forbidden that plucks the long vibrating string of want —
How to drink water when there is wine —
Once I knew all these brick-shaped things, and how they protract the striving and virtuous life.
Now I have lived long and I know better.









