of durable kindness

Not the saint
transfixed
at the painting's center,
but the face
of the boy half blocked
by his mother's shoulder.

Not that huge gate
swung open,
but the pin on the hinge.

The intricate
carved stones placed inside
the chimneys.

The village of women
across the mountain,
fitting
embroidered orchards
into the husband's shoes.

The boy is
watching the hawk
glimpsing the rabbit.
The rabbit is savoring
the half-nibbled flower.

Because the grass is wet
we know it is morning.
The mother holds
purple grapes in her hand,
in case her son
grows restless or hungry.

Later,
when it is over,
it will be hot,
but by then
the dark-nosed donkey
will be asleep.

-"Of Durable Kindness" by Jane Hirshfield  The Lives of the Heart
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