When Soul Wakes, Poetry is Born

Dear Friends and Family,

I’ve just come from a walk, and my mood is the green of spring because first came the rain and the rain and the rain, and every time I stepped outside, more rain, for three days straight. Then came the wind and the wind and the wind, and it all left me quivering to get out like a horse at the gate. Maybe it was worth it to fret. I’m so drunk now on wow.

In today’s reflections, we come to the second part of an April series on poetry and human becoming. In last week’s letter, we read Archibald MacLeish’s “Ars Poetica.”¹ I invited you to note reference to sound and its twofold complement, silence and word, and hence, wordlessness; also to time; and that he says a poem should not mean but be. Today, we read “Ars Poetica” again. Only, we first explore human becoming as context. Let’s see what you experience this time. . . .

May the green of spring shower you this day, wherever you are.

With love,

Renée