For this spring, a single volume of poetry

I bought a book yesterday. I don't do this often, so when I do I feel like an actor in a beautiful movie. The cashier said, "Her books have the best titles. I can't think of that, ah, what is that one..." But when I was walking out the door, she called after me, "A Wild Patience Has Taken Me This Far!"

My mom told me that when she was newly moved to the city and had half a Victorian flat and not much money, she would walk to the grocery store and buy yogurt for herself once a week as a treat. I thought this was weird and mildly pathetic when I was a teenager; what kind of life is it if a container of yogurt is a luxury?

But: trees dropping apples which change their minds and end up not falling so far. I'm older and have decided that simplicity is not only more enjoyable but also more interesting and substantial than decadence. And for breakfast once every other week or so—I have Greek yogurt. Sweetened with honey. By virtue of being set against a landscape of oatmeal and of being anticipated and bought just one at a time, it does become a luxury. I savor it so, just as my mother must have.