Sonnet
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For months, I’ve carried the call of the Sandhill Cranes in my heart. They were passing over my home on an early Saturday morning as I was leaving to proctor the SATs at my high school. It was a divine interruption – a hard stop on the feverish rush of modern life. Since then, I’ve…
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October ended in melancholy. I had been entertaining depression for at least a week, allowing him to raid my cupboards, sleep in my bed, run my life, and steal from my bank account. Melancholy, or depression, may be associated with the color blue, but I was running in the red in terms of hope and…
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One of the joys of being a teacher lies in the different duties we absorb to fill up any free time we might waste preparing lessons or grading student work. Of course that’s not really the case; we all have duties to perform. It’s just hard, sometimes, when you have a stack of papers that…
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Life is full of transitions. For me, the end of summer comes a month early with a return to the classroom. Those days of school starting after Labor Day are long forgotten. Just before my summer vacation came to a close, I intentionally spent one last Sunday seated in my camping chair in the middle…
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To close the year, let me share with you one gift my daughter shared with me this Christmas as a charge for the new year. Along with a copy of Wendell Berry’s This Day: Collected and New Sabbath Poems, Ethney gave me a beautiful sonnet inspiring us to nurture our imaginations and feed the fires…
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Tonight we celebrated the end of my son’s first year of varsity soccer. In honor of that achievement, allow me to share with you a sonnet I wrote three years ago when I spoke at the girls soccer banquet where I teach. Believe it or not, soccer is like a sonnet. Both require hard work.…
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Autumn has always been my favorite season. Perhaps my birthday coming shortly after the autumnal equinox has biased me in favor of this rich time of harvest and change, but as I meditated on turning forty-six and my desire to live to be one hundred years old, the following sonnet emerged. I struggled to capture…
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It’s not Wolf Creek, but it will have to do. If I could have had a decent camera with me a few Sundays ago as I floated down the creek that borders our property, staring up into the cerulean sky with only a few cumulus clouds floating by, then I could have captured the exact…
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Originally posted on Malcolm Guite: image courtesy of Lancia Smith We come now, on Palm Sunday, to the beginning of Holy Week: a strange Palm Sunday, a strange Holy Week, in which we cannot make the outward and visible journeys and gestures, exchanges and gatherings that have always bodied forth the inner meaning of this…
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Oh, the joy of Gerard Manley Hopkins! I wish I could capture the beauty of nature in the rich imagery and luscious syntax of this master. As much as I love “Pied Beauty” and “God’s Grandeur,” this poem resonates the loudest with me. In a time when so many people compare themselves to the false…
the deepening ground 