How to drink water when there is wine, Barbara Kingsolver

How to stay at this desk when the sun
is barefooting cartwheels over the grass —

How to step carefully on the path that begs
for the fleet unfettered gait of a deer —

How to go home again when the wood thrush
is promising the drunk liquid bliss of dusk —

How to resist the kiss, the body forbidden
that plucks the long vibrating string of want —

How to drink water when there is wine —

Once I knew all these brick-shaped things, and how
they protract the striving and virtuous life.

Now I have lived long and I know better.