Poem of the Month: April 2003

Who

These lines are written
by an animal, an angel,
a stranger sitting in my chair;
by someone who already knows
how to live without trouble
among books, and pots and pans.

Who is it who asks me to find
language for the sound
a sheep's hoof makes when it strikes
a stone? And who speaks
the words which are my food?

- Jane Kenyon


Journal prompts:

• Describe your own personal muse.
  
  
• What is your current relationship to words?
  
  
• Write a poem in honor of National Poetry Month which begins with the words, "These words are my food..."