I’m Make My Pen A Bow And Draw It Across the Blank Page Till It Sings

What of me? What do I have to give? I know what to do, what I do best. I'll make my pen a bow and draw it across the blank page till it sings. I'll coax shapeless thoughts and feelings into words, into my own kind of music. My knees bend, my body sways with … Continue reading I’m Make My Pen A Bow And Draw It Across the Blank Page Till It Sings

To Imitate the Strains I Love

THE REDBREAST AND THE SPARROW As a Redbreast was singing on a tree by the side of a rural cottage, a Sparrow, perched upon the thatch, took occasion thus to reprimand him: “And dost thou,” said he, “with thy dull autumnal note, presume to emulate the birds of spring? Can thy weak warblings pretend to … Continue reading To Imitate the Strains I Love