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Coronavirus Spring

the work of a poet is, in the words of Galway Kinnell, to say “with as little concealment as possible, what it is for him or her to be on earth at this moment.”  

        

While it gestates, life must hide. For safety—in the seed, in the bud.

Dear friends,

This month has held the most wonderfully slow emergence of spring, while we hide in our homes. I feel so fortunate to be able to emerge daily from my warm and wired box into the natural world.




I counted 19 different plants growing from this uprooted Beech, including a Tulip Poplar.



More life growing from death.




There is a barred owl in this photo. I only know because I saw it in startling flight. There is so much around us that we fail to see.


Two classes coming up via Zoom: Big Things in Small Packages, the Art of the Short Poem (with Moonlit DC, Monday April 27, 6-8 pm) and the Poetry of Presence (Yellow Arrow Publishing, Saturday May 2, 10-12)



From a student: 

Ann, thank you for making it feel safe for a non-poet.  How I think this class will help me is to make my prose more descriptive and with a sharper edge.  Also, the discussion of the poems challenges me to leave more space for the reader to interpret and make meaning.

It was a lovely two hours.

All my classes welcome new writers but will also be valuable for experienced writers. I hope you can join me on this journey.

May you be well. May you be happy. May you be free from suffering. May you be filled with lovingkindness. May you be filled with joy. May you be at peace and at ease.




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