Poetry Month-April 3, 2024







From the altar box today…

When my daughter was in preschool, she would bring home the artwork of all the other children in the class. I’d ask her where her artwork was and she’d say, I gave it to Hallie, Lila, Alma, Lara…It made me wonder about this thing we do–creating art–holding on to it, possessing it, making it precious. Why not share it? All over the place. All the time. For the surprise. For the interruption. For the love.


While his mother attended her appointment in one room,
His fingers, more cartilage than bone,
Twirled and
Rolled and
Pressed and
Cupped and
Shaped and
Dotted this blue suited fellow in the next room and
Left it behind
For the next waiting child