I'm ending the year with this poem by Ada Limón, "The Last Thing."
The Last Thing
First there was the blue wing
of a scraggly loud jay tucked
into the shrubs. Then the bluish-
black moth drunkenly tripping
from blade to blade. Then
the quiet that came roaring
in like the R. J. Corman over
Broadway near the RV shop.
These are the last three things
Here's the rest of it, leading up to my favorite part, the last three lines...
I can't help it. I will
never get over making everything
such a big deal.
Michelle Kogan has the roundup today. See you in 2020!
4 hours ago