Like this poem by Czeslaw Milosz, written in Warsaw, 1944. One of those poems that walks with me.

And today I was fumbling through another project, needing a breath, a step back from it, and what better way to stroll than to copy Milosz’s stride? It’s one of my favorite ways to stretch into spaces I don’t know how to write. To try on a voice and see and what happens.

And now back to the page….