“I am scorched/ to realize once again/ how many small, available things/ are in the world/ that aren’t/ pieces of gold/ or power–/ that nobody owns.” Mary Oliver One of those small, scorching truths is a mother’s love—a cache so valuable and so permanent that time and place have no bearing to govern. I spent […]
Regarding my mother, there is no example of her patience and grace more profound than to mention how she tolerated with relative indifference my Ewws and rolling eyes and snubbed nose at her cooking for nearly two decades—and now this: Some seeds have very, very thick coats. Trust the loyalty of sprouts—in time they break […]