Thresh, Hold
Thresh, Hold
To separate what one needs
From what one doesn’t
Means to let the wind carry
The chaff away
While holding onto the seed
Then holding some of that
Back from the mill
For sowing
And to do this again
And again
Balancing on the threshold
Between the last year and the next
Neither out nor in
But standing in the doorway
Without blocking it
One hand closed
The other open
Austin, having finally just replaced our decrepit front door, rebuilding the opening and placing a brand new oak threshold beneath the rehabilitated Urban Ore glazed door, and waking to the reality of a massive generational transition in our body politic, this poem resonates warmly.