A poem by Michaela Ridgway
This year for Katy and her son January will hold the door open for you and you’ll carry him in, under an oak moon; a blue garnet in his small, clenched fist will throw light into that forest of lengthening days. In February, the snows will melt and freeze, form pearls on its branches: he will wear them. Your girls will cut wood and … Continue reading A poem by Michaela Ridgway