The Poppies

If you feel sorry for yourself
this Valentine's Day, think of
the dozens of little paper poppies
left in the box when the last
of the candy is gone, how they
must feel, dried out and brown
in their sad old heart-shaped box,
without so much as a single finger
to scrabble around in their
crinkled petals, not even
one pimpled nose to root and snort
through their delicate pot pourri.
So before you make too much
of being neglected, I want you
to think how they feel.

(Ted Kosser, If You Feel Sorry)



It's true, that maybe this should have been posted yesterday morning - the crux of people's romantic sentiment. But it seemd more appropriate to me that it be this morning - the day after. I'm a fan of telling people you love them when you end a phone conversation. When you haven't seen them in weeks. When they're having a bad day. Or a good day. I'd rather send cards on a cloudy Saturday morning. My day is made by every-day gifts for no reason. Can't we share laughs over dinner more often? Do we need an occasion for a movie in? For poetry and cards? At the end of every day it should be about how well you loved others simply. Hallmark should look into designing more "Just Because" cards and stop making us feel like we need a day sanctioned for us. Then maybe come this time next year we won't feel neglected. Like we've been cheated or wronged. Maybe next year we'll get it.


In a light late-winter wind
the oak trees are scattering valentines
over the snow—dark red
like the deep-running, veinous blood
of the married, returning
again and again to the steady heart.

This leaf is yours, friend,
picked from the heart-shaped hoofprint
of a deer. She stood here
under the apple tree during the night,
kicking up sweetness, her great eyes
watching the sleeping house.
(Ted Kosser, In a Light Late-Winter Wind)