It all began with a parsnip that was in fact an artichoke from Jerusalem – the birthplace also of jesus and god’s other son doubting its edibility. It began with a priest’s daughter, her heightened love of porridge and poetry. It began with slow progress and a dram of hope and too much rain. TwoContinue reading “Finding”
"May my body be for what it was intended: an expression of Your grace. And what small ways I make with this poetry – what songs and friendships I form, what migrations and ripples I disturb in the world – may they have something of Your signature on them"
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