I came across this old book of poems on my father’s bookshelf today. It was one of his college texts, and I’d often leaf through it when I was a girl, paying close attention to the poems he marked up in pencil. My favorite back then was Trees by Joyce Kilmer (‘I think that I …
The animated skies above Lake Windermere doubtless inspired lesser poets than Wordsworth, their prose just as romantic and picturesque. I imagine a young poet gazing up at billious clouds burdened with snowflakes and the words spring forth in his mind, a ready poem to share with the world. But like so many youth inspired by …
Ruminations The north wind blows through February trees starlings take flight in the faded London sky black shadows ebb and flow murmurations mirroring my thoughts Stop worrying it’ll drive you crazy he likes to tell the future it makes him feel divine his words dig deep—roots that take hold How will I know when it …
People whirl in a time lapsed blur Below gilded spires and ancient brick Along the banks of the blackened Thames Faces framed in photographic light A thousand selfies shine in the ether But none as bright as the white moon A pinhole pierced through the evening blue
