by William Stafford, from his book
Even in Quiet Places, which apparently is out of print and costs a fortune, but you're welcome to borrow my copy if you come over and I'll even make you a cup of tea which we can drink in a socially distanced fashion.
Keisha has today's roundup.
Thanks for sharing this one (new to me). Thinking of you as you navigate this strange new school year.
ReplyDeleteIt's a William Stafford day! This is the second poem by him on my feed and I'd never heard of him before.
ReplyDeleteI have more than one Stafford book, but not this one, Ruth. I love the poem, so perfect for all of us. I suspect you know that! Thank you!
ReplyDeleteI love this poem--and I would love to come visit and share a cup of tea. Maybe one day we can travel again.
ReplyDeleteI would love a cup of tea and a cozy chat. I'll be right over as soon as I can travel. What a lovely thought.
ReplyDeleteI love the attitude of joyful acceptance in this. Something I could learn to be/do more often!
ReplyDeleteYep, adjusting might be just our cup of tea, I like the tea leaves her offers in his poem–helps us to breathe just a bit slower and deeper. And your cup of tea sounds lovely, thanks Ruth!
ReplyDeleteYes, but who IS Terza McDonald? And Look--he doesn't tell us what is in the wrong package. We have to do the work of imagining even that to which we might adjust. Oh, poetry is a heavy burden and a ribbon-tangled surprise...
ReplyDeleteWishing you well, Ruth...
Wouldn't it be lovely to all gather for tea and share some favorite poems? That sounds like a dream from long ago! Thanks for sharing this poem with its reminder that one may find a gift when one adjusts.
ReplyDeleteLove the context of this poem, Ruth! It does make me want to curl up with a cup of tea and ponder things a bit more. Thanks for sharing!
ReplyDeleteThis poem is a fascinating puzzle! The ribbons, the insult, the strange name. I almost feel like we could make a story out of the details Stafford shares here.
ReplyDeleteThis is definitely the year of learning to adjust--perfect poem for our time. "For you, Pig Head," made me laugh. I suspect Terza McDonald is laughing too.
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