Carl Sandburg’s poem “Grass” seems a fitting poem for this Memorial Day weekend precisely because he reminds us how quickly we forget the sacrifices of the fallen. Each battle, let alone each war, robs us of the strength, the potential, and the future of so many people. We pause on...

Eve Mirriam, a native of Philadelphia, captures something of the beauty of not just poetry but also, I think, creativity itself. She invites us to consider making two moves: the first is attentiveness. Trace it’s shape, pay attention to its movement, follow its life, chew and smell and see...

Some weeks finding a poem is easy. I’m in the mood for something related to a season or event or have a particular poet (or even poem!) in mind. This week wasn’t one of those. Instead, I skimmed – I know this isn’t the way you’re supposed to read poetry, but sometimes that’s just...

One of the things that most defines good poetry for me is what I would call its “evocativeness.” Does the poet not just describe a setting but evoke a feeling, a memory, a sensory reaction? Jane Kenyon absolutely does that in her poem “Let Evening Come.” Whether you grew up in...

There is something so irresistibly sad, or melancholy, or nostalgic, about Sara Teasdale’s poem “Water Lilies” that I find absolutely haunting. Actually, none of those words – sad, melancholy, nostalgic – is quite right. And maybe that’s what I like about this poem: it evokes a...

Holy Saturday, for all practical purposes, is usually given over to preparing for Sunday. Making sure the ham has been purchased and ready to cook, decorating eggs, readying decorations, cleaning the house. But once in a while – or perhaps even for just a few moments of the day – it might...

I have spent the last week in Pennsylvania and New Jersey, visiting family and friends we haven’t seen for too long. We were eager to escape the clutches of another long and cold Minnesota winter, if even for a few days, but chanced upon just the kind of spring William Carlos Williams...

This Sunday millions of Christians will hear the beloved and well known Parable of the Prodigal Son. Or is it the Parable of the Waiting Father? Or perhaps the Parable of the Lost Elder Brother? Or maybe simply the Parable of the Two Brothers? Parables weren’t actually named in the Bible,...

It was March 1 yesterday and here in Minnesota we still have four to six inches of snow on the ground. But temps have been above zero for a week or so and more importantly – or at least more inspiring – the birds are singing. Which means that while winter isn’t quite done, spring is most...

I didn’t set out to make February “Billy Collins Month”, but it appears that I have. ☺ So one more of my favorites: “Forgetfulness.” If you have a parent or sibling or friend who has experienced memory loss, you know how painful and frightening it can be. Memory, in so many ways,...

I am on a Billy Collins kick of late. I don’t usually choose from the same poet this often, but you’ll have to forgive me: it’s February. And my school is currently a mess. And I feel I’ve been pulled to one of those unexpected and, frankly, uninvited vocational and existential...