Poem of the day

October 2nd


My father had our yard cemented over
He couldn't tell a flower from a weed.
The neighbors let their backyards run to clover 
and some grew dappled gardens from a seed,
but he preferred cement to rampant green.
Lushness reeked of anarchy's profusion.
Better to tamp the wildness down, unseen,
than tolerate its careless brash intrusion.
The grass interred, he felt well satisfied:
his first house, and he took an owner's pride,
surveying the uniform, cemented yard.
Just so, he labored to cement his heart.

-Lynne Sharon Schwartz

from See You in the Dark (2012) 




 it's all concrete all this week at Penn Book Center

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