The woman in the poem begins her day by walking with an apple-wood staff, leaning on it more and more as she moves closer to what she calls “a last heart beat.” She checks the garden: more peas, though she is less eager for them now; onions and leeks still too small; lettuce running low; tomatoes already beginning to ripen. She could cut kale, collards, or chard, but she is hungry for something more. That something is absent—no pears, apples, zucchini, potatoes, corn, or beans yet. The final line lands as both instruction and acceptance: “You must make with what you have.” The mood is patient and tender, touched by mortality but not morbid. There is weariness in the leaning staff, but also steadiness, attention to small things, and a gentle coming to terms with whatever may or may not arrive.
What She Will Do — Summary
What she will do today is walk and take in Hand her apple staff, leaning on it As she does now, more and yet more The nearer arriving to a last heart beat She comes, and check for vegs and berries.
Here are yet more peas; she's not as Eager for them as three days ago. With a bit more busy-ness, she'd go In for blanching those. Onions and Leeks too small yet; almost out of Lettuce; tomatoes on the other hand Doing well, and some ready already.
Oh, she could cut kale, collards or chard This morning like any late spring morning, Only she's hungry for something more. Do what she will, there are yet no pears, Apples, zukes, potatoes, corn, or beans. You must make with what you have.