Poetry is what you find
in the dirt in the corner,
overhear on the bus, God
in the details, the only way
to get from here to there.
Poetry (and now my voice is rising)
is not all love, love, love
and I'm sorry the dog died.
Poetry (here I hear myself loudest)
is the human voice,
and are we not of interest to each other?
A quiet morning doing quiet things in the small cottage. Enjoying the sunshine after a brief hiatus. Making collages. Listening to quiet sounds around the house. Mewing cats and birds outside the windows. Choosing a fragment from a complete poem of the poet we all discovered last Tuesday. We don't just like her. We love her.