Spring is taking her time to arrive.
Our neighbours to the south face yet another grim reality about modern life as another president delivers a eulogy for victims of a horrific tragedy and black helicopters buzz about jittery cities.
My own hometown where I continue to live is considering adding a casino to our waterfront that would torpedo the culture of a city that I love.
I see the tips of yellow peeping through the dirt in my yard but flurries still threaten their immediate arrival.
I need a little help today. Fortunately, it's April. National Poetry Month. I hope to share some of my favourites in the remaining days of April but here is one needed today.
It is from a well worn collection on my shelf "she walks in beauty", a gift from my mom.
It was also one of a collection of poems shared in The New Yorker in the days after the attacks on September 11th, 2001.
Try to Praise the Mutilated World
Remember June’s long days,
one of them had a long trip ahead of it,
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