As Generously, As Inexhaustibly

A little reading for anyone coughing and sniffling their way through the second round of winter colds with me--a poem taken from my current obsession, The Beauty. The book is one of Jane Hirshfield's many collections and was a Christmas present from my sister. Despite my attempts to ration out the new poems, I finished it weeks ago and have no doubt there will be several more Hirshfield-inspired posts to come. 
                                                        

A Common Cold
BY JANE HIRSHFIELD

A common cold, we say—
common, though it has encircled the globe
           seven times now handed traveler to traveler
           though it has seen the Wild Goose Pagoda in Xi'an
           seen Piero della Francesca’s Madonna del Parto in Monterchi
           seen the emptied synagogues of Krasnogruda
           seen the since-burned souk of Aleppo

A common cold, we say—
common, though it is infinite and surely immortal
           common because it will almost never kill us
           and because it is shared among any who agree to or do not agree to
           and because it is unaristocratic
                     reducing to redness both profiled and front-viewed noses
                     reducing to coughing the once-articulate larynx
                     reducing to unhappy sleepless turning the pillows of down,
                          of wool, of straw, of foam, of kapok

A common cold, we say—
common because it is cloudy and changing and dulling
            because there are summer colds, winter colds, fall colds,
                     colds of the spring
            because these are always called colds, however they differ
                     beginning sore-throated
                     beginning sniffling
                     beginning a little tired or under the weather
                     beginning with one single innocuous untitled sneeze
           because it is bane of usually eight days’ duration
                     and two or three boxes of tissues at most

The common cold, we say—
and wonder, when did it join us
           when did it saunter into the Darwinian corridors of the human
           do manatees catch them do parrots I do not think so
           and who named it first, first described it, Imhotep, Asclepius,
                 Zhongjing
           and did they wonder, is it happy sharing our lives
                    as generously as inexhaustibly as it shares its own
                    virus dividing and changing while Piero’s girl gazes still
                         downward
                   five centuries still waiting still pondering still undivided

while in front of her someone hunts through her opening pockets for tissues
                         for more than one reason once