Primavera arrived this week with her sun-golden hair, azure eyes, and fragrance of flowering cherries. She lit my heart. Today, however, she has withdrawn, hiding her countenance behind the overcast sky, shedding cold rain-tears, and silencing her voice of robin-songs as the wind howls the tale of enduring winter. I took a walk in the … Continue reading Shelley: If Winter Comes?
I find myself in the unexpected company of German poets. The other evening, as I walked about in Windsor Terrace, I saw that a neighbor had left several books on the stoop of her brownstone house. I browsed through them and selected two to bring home with me: Friedrich Hölderlin's Hymns and Fragments and Paul … Continue reading In the Company of German Poets
The poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke has been enlightening my mornings, as spring turns into summer. I wake, brew a cup of black coffee, sit by my front window under the shade of the sycamore tree, and let the poet's verses awaken me to the spiritual and sentimental possibilities of the day. On a bright, … Continue reading Rilke: Gazing at Gardens
