from morn to night, my friend

Up-Hill by Christina Rossetti Does the road wind up-hill all the way?    Yes, to the very end. Will the day’s journey take the whole long day?    From morn to night, my friend. But is there for the night a resting-place?    A roof for when the slow dark hours begin. May not the darkness hide itContinue reading “from morn to night, my friend”

so named for Peter

Names never cease to amaze me. In the hands of this poet, two familiar stories flow out of one simple name, each informing the other. Petrel So named for Peter, the one who tried to walk on water. The Storm Petrel, small as a sparrow with a frantic, pulsing flight, stays silent at sea, patteringContinue reading “so named for Peter”

both hands are stopped at noon

How have we invaded the moon? Is the moon’s light not as potent now that we have stepped upon its face? I love space exploration, but this poem is still profoundly true. Our imaginations wax dangerously rootless, shiny, sterilized and inhumane. Thanks to the student who taught me this poem today. The End of ScienceContinue reading “both hands are stopped at noon”

with my soul clenched

Elizabeth’s handmade card to me contained a line from this poem. Her love, being true, knows desire and loss. Clenched Soul by Pablo Neruda translated by W.S. Merwin We have lost even this twilight. No one saw us this evening hand in hand while the blue night dropped on the world. I have seen fromContinue reading “with my soul clenched”

our hearts burst open in the heat

The Magi We kick our camels’ sides and curse, but they refuse to rise, as if this house were the only oasis in a trackless desert, and this child, playing in the doorway, the owner of the well. They swing their ponderous heads slowly from side to side. Their silver harness bells tinkle, their vermillionContinue reading “our hearts burst open in the heat”