Isolation

Notes
​Today, the believed birthday of William Shakespeare in 1564, is an appropriate day to return to posting this poetry blog after an extended absence.  At a time when most of the country's inhabitants are harboring at home because of the pandemic it is interesting to note that Shakespeare wrote his last few plays at home in Stratford, having left London to avoid the danger of the bubonic plague.  In our isolation, we may find time to discover reading put aside or never explored.  I returned to the work of the American poet William Stafford (1914-993).  His surprising insights into our experience, his reassurance of the value of our lives, is especially invigorating at this time.  A poem from The Way It Is, New and Selected Poems, Graywolf Press, I found heartening.

Notes for the Program

Just the ordinary days, please
I wouldn't want them any better.

About the pace of life, it seems best to have
slow, if-I-can stand-them revelations.

And take this message about the inevitable:
I've decided it's all right if it comes.

​William Stafford