Friday, December 27, 2013


Our granddaughter, all 
Of eleven months 

Picks up this 
Small twig, 

Puts it down as soon as 
She sees a leaf 

Fall, starts 
To crawl to where 

It would have been 
Had the wind not 

Come by to pick it up. 


  1. Sweet! As you so often do—two contrary motions that touch in the poet's perception, but elude each other out in the world....

  2. A remarkable telescopic compression of the process of learning to map the world... and of the errors inevitably built into that process.

    (I don't think we really "learn" by mistakes, save in learning to repeat them more or less automatically later on, without the original sense of play and discovery or the pleasure of all that...)

  3. Thanks, you two. It helps to have a granddaughter who can help her grandad "learn" from her "mistakes".


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