On Meeting Strangers
On Meeting Strangers
Anna Elkins
That the unknown
Between us
Might flower
Into discovery
—John O’Donohue
We walk a path beneath Moroccan olive trees.
The path becomes a road, the road passes a field.
Two farmers ask if we’d like to see the donkeys.
We think no, but say yes, and stop to watch
the yoked creatures drag an olive branch
over just-plowed ground. Spreading the seed,
the older of the two farmers says.
The younger man sets crates on their sides
and sweeps his hand toward them and us.
We would rather keep walking, but we sit.
The donkeys stand still, only their ears moving.
We think: How long until it’s polite to leave?
And then: The sky is so blue.
The older man ducks into a hut
and emerges with a plastic bag, plastic bottle.
He pulls rounds of bread from the bag, big as plates.
Then a bowl for the contents of the bottle: olive oil
from the groves we just came through—
oil the color of sun—so bright it glows.
We rip chunks of bread, dip them in.
They soak to gold.
We eat them with gratitude that spreads slowly,
from tongue to heart, coating everything
within us that had wanted to rush past.
Sticky cups of tea appear, and we share them
without wondering when they were washed or with what.
We forget our walk, where we were going, why.
For these moments, we know only
the unknown and the yes we said to it.
Anna Elkins
Poet and Painter
Anna earned a BA in art and English, an MFA in poetry, and a Fulbright Fellowship to write art-inspired poetry in Germany. She has written, painted, and taught on six continents, exhibiting paintings and publishing books along the way—including her latest poetry collection, Hope of Stones, which won an Oregon Book Award. After many travels, Anna now enjoys living in a small town on a big river with her husband, Jared. annaelkins.com
Photography by Sergey N