Borrowing from the library worlds and bundles, hearts and triumphs, characters for company, facts that pull
try this, try that.
But today,
reading a poem about home,
a polished maple leaf,
extending its stem like an arm,
falls from the pages
where it had been placed to dry
by another poetry fan.
A forgotten leaf left or purposely
so a guest could receive the unexpected.
I delight in the dilemma of
let it hitchhike back in the book
or is it my gift to sit in my kitchen
on the large maroon plate
where it will remind
how poems arrive.
5/24/19 Jill Rothman
What happens around meWhat others think of meIs none of my business What happens “inside” of meWhat happens in my beingIS The confusionThe knowingThe...
She is one of those older women, you know, a "free spirit" who is always picking up strays. She helps those who are damaged...
She listens intently to the cycles of the natural world. She holds the lotus of creation and leans into the tree of life. She...