Poet Jane Hirshfield said "... the feeling I have about poem-writing (is) that it is always an exploration, of discovering something I didn't already know.  Who I am shifts from moment to moment, year to year.  What I can perceive does as well.  A new poem peers into mystery, into whatever lies just beyond the edge of knowable ground."

I bring a different poem to the writing classes each week, not only to inspire but to introduce new poets to the group members.

Prints by Alison Pick

Late afternoon, alone in the trees,
The quiet creak of skis through snow, 
a shy approach, your stealth.
A pattered line of rabbit prints

veers off into evening.
Think of shadow, someone 
leaving, somebody else bedding down.
This kind of softness brushes your shoulders, 

keeps your secrets 
safe.  Hush, hush, your human tracks; 
your binding’s metal tick; you’re moving through 

the natural world and understanding
nothing.  Day’s last sun gives up the fight
like something in you

sacrificed, something bright that glints like blood
staining the snow beneath the trap,
that melts in ice and light on spruce and finally
ends as glistening.

~ from The Dream World (McClelland and Stewart, 2008)


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