my friend, beth, is no longer blogging. but this beautiful post showed up this morning in my fb memories.
I’m reminded of Sonnet 73 today as I walk through through the park on this mildly cold, drizzling day. Most of the trees have lost their leaves, and then I spot that single tree that still has a few yellow leaves shaking against the cold. I keep trying to remember the lines: That time of year when yellow leaves or few or none do hang, bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang…. No, that can’t be it. I’m counting the syllables on my fingers, hoping for iambic pentameter and a rhyme scheme — and know I’m leaving something out — or adding something in.
Just last Sunday we went to hear Ralph William’s so-called “Last Lecture” because it was the lecture he would give if it were his last. Ralph Williams is a beloved professor emeritus from the University of Michigan. I sat in on his Primo…
View original post 216 more words