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.
The Poem Farm: A Resource for Writers
Picture Book Spotlight: Mustache Baby
Instead of Posting Tonight
From the Archives: Life on the Trail