In Sickness and in Health

Here’s a pandemic poem from a poet in Australia: Pandemic Lynn Ungar Australia What if you thought of itas the Jews consider the Sabbath—the most sacred of times?Cease from travel.Cease from buying and selling.Give up, just for now,on trying to make the worlddifferent than it is.Sing. Pray. Touch only thoseto whom you commit your life.CenterContinue reading “In Sickness and in Health”

When the burning begins

Happy COVID-year Thanksgiving. I give thanks that we are all well enough to read this poem by Patricia Smith. It’s not a sentimental poem. When the Burning Begins Patricia Smith – 1955- for Otis Douglas Smith, my father The recipe for hot water cornbread is simple:Cornmeal, hot water. Mix till sluggish,then dollop in a sizzling skillet.WhenContinue reading “When the burning begins”

It crept up and turned a key in my face

On Monday, November 23, I had Mohs Micrographic surgery to remove a basal cell carcinoma from the tip of my nose.  Basal cell is not deadly, but it is invasive and destructive.  So I also have a skin graft from the side of my face onto my nose.  Am swathed in bandages now.  Won’t knowContinue reading “It crept up and turned a key in my face”

Fitful gusts that shake the casement

Here’s another wonderful poem by John Clare: I love the fitfull gusts that shakes The casement all the day And from the mossy elm tree takes The faded leaf away Twirling it by the window-pane With thousand others down the lane I love to see the shaking twig Dance till the shut of eve TheContinue reading “Fitful gusts that shake the casement”

The Common Sense of Habitats

Here’s a marvelous poem by Lynn Woollacott: The Hare In The Woods By Lynn Woollacott Wizened horse chestnuts and overlords of oak dally with a canopy of glorious beeches, knotted roots intertwine so everything touches, and offers from silver birch balcony a view of the long limbs of the leveret protruding behind a tuft ofContinue reading “The Common Sense of Habitats”

The wild duck startles like a sudden thought

Here’s a lovely bird poem for this darkening season: Autumn Birds. By John Clare. The wild duck startles like a sudden thought, And heron slow as if it might be caught. The flopping crows on weary wings go by And grey beard jackdaws noising as they fly. The crowds of starnels whizz and hurry by,Continue reading “The wild duck startles like a sudden thought”

We grow accustomed to the dark

Here’s a poem by Emily Dickinson that i had not encountered before: We Grow Accustomed to the DarkEmily Dickinson We grow accustomed to the Dark –When light is put away –As when the Neighbor holds the LampTo witness her Goodbye – A Moment – We uncertain stepFor newness of the night –Then – fit ourContinue reading “We grow accustomed to the dark”

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