august, green & undeserved

I’m forever in awe of poetry’s ability to tap into what paces beneath the surface, anxious to be seen. Maybe it was the stuffed-down stress of the morning, but the weeping felt like a true connection. At the heart of the poem is the idea that we don’t or can’t always appreciate — or even recognize — love when it’s given to us.

poetry road trip to see marie gauthier read at berkshire wordfest

jill and i traveled an hour or so to lenox, massachusetts, to see marie read her wonderful poetry. she had the high noon spot today as part of berkshire wordfest, hosted by the mount, edith wharton’s house. it’s an annual festival, and though we were there only briefly, it’s clear they do a great job. and what a contrast in settings from yesterday: 80,000 people downtown, on my street, for lark fest. and today, this proper, quiet estate in the midst of the wilderness.