During the Depression, William Stafford’s family moved from town to town in search of work. He contributed to the family income by raising vegetables. Stafford grew up to be a poet of ordinary life ~ life during the hours before first light, his quiet time for toast and coffee and writing. He didn’t believe in writer’s block. If you get stuck, lower your standards and keep going. (Wise words, don’t you think?) Every morning, this modest guy went inside himself to find small words and write big thoughts.
It could happen any time, tornado,
earthquake, Armageddon. It could happen.
Or sunshine, love, salvation. It could you know. That’s why we wake and look out—no guarantees in this life.
But some bonuses, like morning, like right now, like noon, like evening.
~ William Stafford
And may I be so bold as to add ~ like cucumbers. I have tons of small…
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