Nov 9. The sky hangs thin and wet on its clothesline.
Nov12. ...I sometimes take hold of the cold porcelain knob of the moon, and turn it...
Nov 13. A curled, brown leaf lies on its back, lifting its undistinguished edges into the glory of frost.
-All from Winter Morning Walks: one hundred postcards to Jim Harrison, by Ted Kooser
Some of us are reading along with the dated poems in this lovely work. Maybe these snippets will draw you in to join us. I love Kooser's words so much that I have to keep myself from reading ahead. Instead, I reread and savor each one several times a day.
a few stitches
It seems very fitting that the dated poems in Kooser's book began around the same time as our first snowfall here in CT. Serendipity. I like that.