Resolved: to forego a proper solstice sunrise photo and substitute instead a photo of favorite birch trees. They are as beautiful as any old sun, and throw off their glow all year round. What's not in the picture is the dog, who is a boat in my gaze's current, floating directly in line with wherever… Continue reading Winter solstice resolutions
By December 1911, the South pole was just another notch on Roald Amundsen's belt. Robert F. Scott, as we know, reached that awful place a month later, and then perished on the return. If you were a south polar explorer in 1914, all the good stuff had been claimed already. But Ernest Shackleton couldn't bear to… Continue reading Shackleton Found
In memoriam Francis Ledwidge Killed in France 31 July 1917 The bronze soldier hitches a bronze cape That crumples stiffly in imagined wind No matter how the real winds buff and sweep His sudden hunkering run, forever craned Over Flanders. Helmet and haversack, The gun’s firm slope from butt to bayonet, The loyal, fallen names… Continue reading A call across the world
This past week I was acting tour guide for a new found poetry group called Found Poetry Frontiers, a spin-off group from the PoMoSco project devised by fellow Found Poet (and Vermonter) Susan Powers Bourne. Each week, the designated guide explores his or her local area and then creates found poems about it to share… Continue reading Poetourism
I have so many things to tell you. April was a frenzy of activity. It was wonderful but it moved so quickly I'd no time to pin it down here in words. I'll try to make up for that in May, but right now, I just want to crow for a moment... I completed the… Continue reading What’s next?
As much jabbering as I do here about myself, there are probably still one or two things you don't know about me. Here's one: when I was little I was a Brownie, and then I "flew up" to become a Junior Girl Scout, and then, after the novelty of wearing my uniform and sash with… Continue reading If you talk about it long enough you’ll finally write it
Earlier this evening I spied on the moon through the branches of the huge Maple tree in our yard. Now, when I'm here at my desk, wondering what on earth to write about, the moon is spying on me (M told me so just a minute ago). What can I possibly write that the moon… Continue reading The moon’s watching
Falling Leaves and Early Snow In the years to come they will say, “They fell like the leaves In the autumn of nineteen thirty-nine.” November has come to the forest, To the meadows where we picked the cyclamen. The year fades with the white frost On the brown sedge in the hazy meadows, Where the… Continue reading Winter comes to November
"How about November?" asks poet Mary Ruefle (in her lecture "On Secrets") when, every April, she's asked to contribute to a poetry reading in recognition of National Poetry Month. April's been crowned the month of poetry, but what does April need with poems? April is her own poem, all hopeful, beckoning and unfurling. Poetry in… Continue reading How about November?