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.

What Can’t Be Seen by Lorna Crozier

After sunset I walk under spruce boughs,
looking for the owl the others saw midday.
Huge, they said, it took up so much being, 
so much heartspan in the air.  Whoo whoo,
I move toward it, no moon or stars, 
my way snow-lit.

Above the branches foxed in blacker  
than the sky, I hope to see its ears  
in silhouette, the shoulder-shrug of wings.
Whoo, whoo, louder now, then nothing.
It seems just in front of me and high.

Beneath the trees, I stand inside  
my many years, inside the owl’s 
deep hearing— it’s hush, my hush,
circling out and out and touching
our grey heads.  Let this be
the what-I-don’t-see I die with,
this feathered, thick-lapped 
listening of the night.

~ from Whetstone (McClelland and Stewart Ltd, 2005)


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