“ Wrong solitude vinegars the soul, right solitude oils it. ”
Hope is the hardest love we carry.
~ Jane Hirshfield
One breath taken completely; one poem, fully written, fully read - in such a moment, anything can happen.
as some strings, untouched,sound when no one is speaking.So it was when love slipped inside us.
One way poetry connects is across time. . . . Some echo of a writer's physical experience comes into us when we read her poem.
