The Well of Grief

by David Whyte Those who will not slip beneaththe still surface on the well of grief, turning down through its black waterto the place we cannot breathe, will never know the source from which we drink,the secret water, cold and clear, nor find in the darkness glimmering, the small round coins,thrown by those who wished... Continue Reading →

Snowy Night

by Mary Oliver Last night, an owlin the blue darktossed an indeterminate number of carefully shaped sounds intothe world, in which,a quarter of a mile away, I happenedto be standing. I couldn’t tellwhich one it was –the barred or the great-hornedship of the air –it was that distant. But, anyway,aren’t there momentsthat are better than... Continue Reading →

Up ↑