Thinking About Being Called Simple by a Critic

William Stafford

I wanted the plums, but I waited.

The sun went down. The fire

went out. With no lights on

I waited. From the night again–

those words: how stupid I was.

And I closed my eyes to listen.

The words all sank down, deep

and rich. I felt their truth

and began to live them. They were mine

to enjoy. Who but a friend

could give so sternly what the sky

feels for everyone but few learn to

cherish? In the dark with the truth

I began the sentence of my life

and found it so simple there was no way

back into qualifying my thoughts

with irony or anything like that.

I went to the fridge and opened it–

sure enough the light was on.

I reached in and got the plums.