Wednesday, March 20, 2013


dear emily,

this year i became a poetry reader after a lifetime of devouring books.

at first, i considered poems like the vegetables on my plate.    "eat your
vegetables first and get them over with."  i realized that my own words
would be richer if i read the condensed, perfectly chosen bites of great
poets.    i hoped that sweetly written phrases like, "oh good, old brown
earth" (browning) would soak into my dry, crumbly soil.

now, however, i inhale these poems, because they are as addicting as my
daughter's roasted broccoli with garlic, red pepper, and parmesan.    when
i savor a delicately seasoned refrain like, "twilight comes to the little farm,"
(carruth) it nourishes the hunger i didn't even know i had.

i pray that along with eating healthy doses of scripture,  my crusty shell
will become good, old brown earth, yielding its own crop of nourishment. 
of course, a lot of silly crops will grow there, too.    if i eat my vegetables,
i should get my dessert.


"the kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field."  matthew 13:44