Thinking of Madame Bovary
The first hot April day the granite step was warm. Flies droned in the grass. When a car went past they rose in unison, then dropped back down. . . . I saw that a yellow crocus bud had pierced a dead oak leaf, then opened wide. How strong its appetite for the luxury of the sun! Everyone longs for love’s tense joy and red delights. And then I spied an ant dragging a ragged, disembodied wing up the warm brick walk. It must have been the Methodist in me that leaned forward, preceded by my shadow, to put a twig just where the ant was struggling with its own desire.
Jane Kenyon, "Thinking of Madame Bovary" from Collected Poems. Copyright © 2005 by the Estate of Jane Kenyon. Reprinted with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc., on behalf of Graywolf Press, graywolfpress.org.