Snowballs float, field balm prays, Crow’s bane smiles, tulips fray (in my half-wild yard). A springtime poem by James Wright made me all joyful inside and I hope you’ll love it too… A Blessing by James Wright Just off the…
Field balm
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Because the mower did not come the wild things grew and sang wild songs and the tulips remembered the melodies. A grandmother’s bluebells (long since forgotten) woke up, looked around, told some jokes because the mower did not come. Because…
I’m a slow learner. Or another word: stubborn. Pain is a patient teacher. I love the way Denise Levertov imagines a gentle conversation with grief… Talking to Grief By Denise Levertov Ah, grief, I should not treat you like a…
“All is swell here, I’m halfinated,” my friend Don texted last week – and I think he’s come up with the cleverest word I’ve heard in a long time. They’re giving out shots like candy in Georgia where my daughters…