But we have only begun to love the earth. We have only begun to imagine the fullness of life. How could we tire of hope?-so much is in bud.

I'm not very good at praying, but what I experience when I'm writing a poem is close to prayer.

Marvelous Truth, confront us at every turn, in every guise.

But we have only begun to love the earth. We have only begun to imagine the fullness of life. How could we tire of hope?-so much is in bud.

I'll dig in into my days, having come here to live, not to visit. Grey is the price of neighboring with eagles, of knowing a mountain's vast presence, seen or unseen.

Wear scarlet! Tear the green lemons off the tree! I don't want to forget who I am, what has burned in me, and hang limp and clean, an empty dress -

If woman is inconstant, good, I am faithful to ebb and flow, I fall in season and now is a time of ripening.