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I’m still coming off the high of earlier this month when I spent a couple of days steeped in the poetry of others and rediscovering the desire to write my own.

I’m spending time dipping into the old texts and newer volumes that I’ve purchased over the years.

First stop was my old Norton Anthology of Modern Poetry.  A university text. 1973. First edition no less, although its thumb-worn state belies any value it might have had if I’d left it on the shelf more often.

This poem by the late Seamus Heaney stopped me in my tracks last night. There is so much going on in a mere four verses. Oh the skill!

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