Following the news of the bomb blasts at the Boston Marathon, reading stories of indescribable horror. Why does it always shock us to learn, over and over again, that such evil exists in the world?
I've been frantically looking around for things to offer comfort--the season's first local Osprey, birdsong outside my office, learning that a poet whose work first inspired me to write poetry as a teenager (Sharon Olds) has won the Pulitzer Prize, praise from a Board member for work well done. But these are small things compared to people's lives.
Soaring Osprey, returned,
and singing sparrows--
sometimes this isn't enough.
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