Life With Horace

poetry & essays



Each time I try to find
the edge of space, searching
in the darkest part of blue,
past stars and their hangers on
orbiting a single mote of dust,
it turns out I’m that bird
expecting infinity but
finding sudden glass.


For Mary Oliver.

Author: Life With Horace

Poetry & Essays

7 thoughts on “Fragment

  1. ❤️❤️❤️ Really like this ❤️❤️❤️


  2. Now that I live in the country, I search the sky and the stars for meaning. The birds hit the glass more than I like. Usually they are stunned, recover ,and fly off.
    Yes, I search the stars,hit the glass,and keep on going. But for how long?
    Kate this is lovely work.
    Beth Ebert


    • Beth, what a nice surprise to see your comment. Thank you.


      • Your surroundings seem emotionally rich. This is a good place to be now.
        I enjoy vacuuming certain rugs ..I feel my mother and grandmother’s ghosts vacuuming with me..we all stood over these carpets. Who could believe that simple housework now feels like an honor.?
        How is the family?


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