Because he's just that good.
Because I have raised young women who write.
Because Betsy is graduating and growing up and away.
And because when Betsy has flown, I will remember my writer, enclosed in the world of her keyboard and screen, as she so often was -- jaw set, fingers flying -- pounding out her dreams, making them real and strong.
by Richard Wilbur
In her room at the prow of the house
Where light breaks, and the windows are tossed with linden,
My daughter is writing a story.
I remember the dazed starling
Which was trapped in that very room, two years ago;
We watched the sleek, wild, dark
And iridescent creature
Batter against the brilliance, drop like a glove
(Promise me you will go read the whole poem here, at Poets.org.)
P.S. Today is the last day to enter to win one of five copies of Deathbed Conversions. Just go to this link for details about the contest, the sale on the book at OSV, and to leave a comment to enter. The contest ends tonight at midnight (CDT).