“August is huge and blue, a glittering gemstone curving dangerously at either end into what precedes and follows it.

spires croppedOne afternoon about twenty years ago, someone on NPR read the poem “On the Island” by Elizabeth Spires.  I was driving my car, and I was so moved that I almost went into the ditch. This poem is infused with tension between the past and the future.  Here … Read More