by Barbara Crooker
Some October, when the leaves turn gold, ask
me if I've done enough to deserve this life
I've been given. A pile of sorrows, yes, but joy
enough to unbalance the equation.
(Read the rest here.)
Barbara Crooker. She's just one of those lovely gifts to and from the universe.
She writes of the ordinary, painting it with extraordinary color and depth. She makes me think, and sigh, and laugh. I always associate her with autumn, for some reason. Crisp and lovely, golden hues, endings and beginnings.
If you've never read her, you can find her books here.
And go here for a little Poetry Friday bonus, Crooker's Poem of the Month, "Halloween."
The Poetry Friday round up is at Friendly Fairy Tales.