The Poetry of Spring

DSC_0047If you have never read any Dorothy Parker, may I strongly suggest you do so? Not only her astonishing poems (and I say “astonishing” because so many of them appear merely clever and turn out to be so much more than clever); not only her short stories, any one of which you may have encountered in a high school anthology. Continue reading

Still Sputtering

It is a clear, chilly Tuesday morning and we have had quite an array of weather. Last week saw some warm breezes and hot sun – the kind of weather in which lots of yard work gets done, shoulders turn pink, and days end in a pleasant sense of accomplishment. I let myself believe spring was settling in. Continue reading

Begin Again

What does spring mean?

I’ve spent the past year figuring out what it means to be sixty; in a few days I’ll move to the next number. It’s my belief that every “zero birthday” brings sea-changes, and this one has been no exception. DSC_0084There are new aches in the body upon waking, and a new sense of passing the world’s troubles onto stronger shoulders. I feel strung somewhere between Prufrock’s youthful abashment and Yeats’s “tattered coat upon a stick,” and I’m not sure I can hear any singing at all.

Continue reading