Wherever we’re going
is Monday morning
Wherever we’re coming from
is Mother’s lap.
Maxine Kumin, Pulitzer Prize-winning poet, has died at 88. I loved her work, especially this poem. You can hear her read it below, or at the Poetry Foundation.
From Things I’m Reading
A few last quotes from A Far Cry from Kensington
And If the Burns Poem Has You Feeling Mouse-ish…
Fascinating Live and Dead Things