And even the mottled, somewhat raggedy witch hazel leaves become a yellow luminescence against the afternoon and its celebration of sky-blue sky. A day to walk, observe, look up, celebrate the riot of color of the so many neighborhood shrubs and trees. A day to rake more fallen browning leaves, to sweep, to wait for the finches and bushtits to arrive for their before dinner dip
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Found Poetry: Sappho in Translation
Found poetry takes words, phrases, and sometimes even entire passages from other sources and recasts them into what I like to think of as the literary equivalent of a collage. My found poem, “So now this autumn,” is made up of lines taken from If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho, translated by…