A gift of poems

I belong to a group which swaps all kinds of things, crafted items, post cards, sometimes poems. A couple years ago in a swap of poems a young woman I really did not know - it's an online group - send me a entire little book of poems she had copied from I know not where, all in her neat and legible printing.  Nearly all the poems and poets were unknown to me.  I have the little book in my OPP folder (Other People's Poetry) and I open it only once in a while. I've just been reading through it again.  Sometimes a gift, even a very casual one, gives and continues to give so much pleasure.

Here is a nice little poem that does that thing I envy poets being able to do: capture the wonderfulness of a single moment.  (My own impulse is to go on and one about a thing.) It's incredibly hard to just said something and capture what I suppose some would call a zen moment.  The poet here is Richard Jones.

White Towels

I have been studying the difference
between solitude and loneliness,
telling the story of my life
to the clean white towels taken warm
      from the dryer.
I carry them through the house
as though they were my children
asleep in my arms.