8 Esfand 1404
Quatrain 35 of 75
“I think the Vessel, that with fugitive
Articulation answer'd, once did live,
And merry-make; and the cold Lip I kiss'd
How many Kisses might it take—and give.”
Reflection · Winter 1404
In winter the cold lip of the vessel is most honest. The bowl is still there, the clay still the clay, the rim still capable of receiving the lip pressed to it. But cold in a way that the summer bowl was not, cold in a way that winter makes permanent-feeling. How many Kisses might it take — and give. In winter you count them differently. The give and take that seemed infinite in summer is finite, always was.
Press your lip to the cold rim. The murmur is still there. The vessel that once did live and merry-make is still giving, in its cold way, the only way it now can. The kiss is still real.