"Autobiographies of great nations are written in three manuscripts – a book of deeds, a book of words, and a book of art. Of the three, I would choose the latter as truest testimony." - Sir Kenneth Smith, Great Civilisations

"I must write each day without fail, not so much for the success of the work, as in order not to get out of my routine." - Leo Tolstoy

I have never believed that one should wait until one is inspired because I think the pleasures of not writing are so great that if you ever start indulging them you will never write again. - John Updike

"The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another; and his humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it." - J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

Poetry is the shadow cast by our streetlight imaginations." - Lawrence Ferlinghetti


[Note - If any article requires updating or correction please notate this in the comment section. Thank you. - res]


Thursday, March 16, 2023

Of Small Towns & Poems


Cascade, Michigan

This post is written primarily for the people of Cascade, both past and present. The story of it's history is found further below. But to begin, let us first introduce ourselves in poem to the nature of small towns and what attracts so many people in wit, witticism and fond memories.

R.E. Slater
March 17, 2023


The Ten Best Village Poems in English Literature

selected by Dr Oliver Tearle

The author of this article, Dr Oliver Tearle, is a literary critic and lecturer in English at Loughborough University. He is the author of, among others, The Secret Library: A Book-Lovers’ Journey Through Curiosities of History and The Great War, The Waste Land and the Modernist Long Poem.

...Poets down the ages have often written about villages and rural communities, but they have often done so for very different reasons. Here are ten of the very best poems about village life.

Oliver GoldsmithThe Deserted Village

Sweet Auburn, loveliest village of the plain,
Where health and plenty cheared the labouring swain,
Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid,
And parting summer’s lingering blooms delayed,
Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease,
Seats of my youth, when every sport could please,
How often have I loitered o’er thy green,
Where humble happiness endeared each scene!
How often have I paused on every charm,
The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm …

One of the best-known poems about villages, ‘The Deserted Village’ is dedicated to Joshua Reynolds, and exposes the corruption found within towns in the eighteenth century as well as decrying the depopulation of rural areas, hence the poem’s title. But the poem proved to be so popular partly because it could be read as social commentary or, alternatively, for its appealing and sympathetic descriptions of rural village life.


The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd wind slowly o’er the lea,
The plowman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

Now fades the glimm’ring landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds …

Of course, this classic eighteenth-century poem had to feature in our list of the best church poems! The ‘country churchyard’ referred to in the poem’s title belonged to St Giles’ parish church at Stoke Poges in Buckinghamshire. Gray’s Elegy (as it’s often known) was partly inspired by the death of another poet, Richard West, in 1742, but became a grand meditation on death and the simple memorials left behind by rustic village folk rather than statesmen and celebrated figures. The poem also gave Thomas Hardy the phrase ‘far from the madding crowd’ for use as the title of his fourth published novel.

George Crabbe, The Village

The village life, and every care that reigns
O’er youthful peasants and declining swains;
What labour yields, and what, that labour past,
Age, in its hour of languor, finds at last;
What forms the real picture of the poor,
Demands a song—the Muse can give no more.
Fled are those times, if e’er such times were seen,
When rustic poets praised their native green …

Crabbe was influenced by Goldsmith in his depictions of village life, and this influence is clear in ‘The Village’, a narrative poem in which Crabbe tries to move away from the glorified depictions of the village in earlier eighteenth-century poems (including Goldsmith’s) and show village life as it actually is.

John Clare, The Village Boy

Free from the cottage corner see how wild
The village boy along the pastures hies
With every smell and sound and sight beguiled
That round the prospect meets his wondering eyes
Now stooping eager for the cowslip peeps
As though he’d get them all – now tired of these
Across the flaggy brook he eager leaps
For some new flower his happy rapture sees
Now tearing mid the bushes on his knees
Or woodland banks for bluebell flowers he creepts
And now while looking up among the trees
He spies a nest and down he throws his flowers
And up he climbs with new-fed extacies
The happiest object in the summer hours

In this sonnet, one of England’s greatest poets of rural life and the natural world describes a village boy moving through the countryside, with Clare’s repeated use of ‘now’ conveying the heady and almost dizzying journey of the village boy. We have reproduced the sonnet in full above, as it isn’t widely available elsewhere online.

This poem is about the stillness and quietness of villages:

I often passed the village
When going home from school –
And wondered what they did there –
And why it was so still –

But with a twist: the speaker of the poem is dead, and is speaking from the stillness of the village grave.


On afternoons of drowsy calm
We stood in the panelled pew,
Singing one-voiced a Tate-and-Brady psalm
To the tune of ‘Cambridge New.’

We watched the elms, we watched the rooks,
The clouds upon the breeze,
Between the whiles of glancing at our books,
And swaying like the trees …

Mellstock in Hardy’s Wessex is Stinsford, the small Dorset village where his heart was interred in 1928, and in this poem, Hardy recalls his childhood hours spent at the local village church, singing hymns and psalms. The adult Hardy, looking back, cannot believe that such ‘psalming’ did any good; but, as so often with Hardy’s poems, there is a wistfulness for the faith he has lost (compare ‘The Oxen’ here.)

Edward Thomas, Adlestrop

Yes, I remember Adlestrop –
The name, because one afternoon
Of heat the express-train drew up there
Unwontedly. It was late June.

The steam hissed. Someone cleared his throat.
No one left and no one came
On the bare platform …

The setting for this poem is the railway station serving the small village of Adlestrop in Gloucestershire; the moment is a day in ‘late June’ – specifically, late June 1914, when Thomas, on his way to visit Robert Frost, noted the summery sounds and sights while the train stopped at the station. The poem captures a moment of English summer tranquillity in a few vivid, evocative images and sounds.


Some, it may be, can get in touch
With Nature there, or Earth, or such.
And clever modern men have seen
A Faun a-peeping through the green,
And felt the Classics were not dead,
To glimpse a Naiad’s reedy head,
Or hear the Goat-foot piping low …

This famous poem romanticises a small Cambridgeshire village while Brooke sits in a German cafĂ© – a sort of updated version of Robert Browning’s ‘Home Thoughts, from Abroad’ for a new generation. The closing lines – ‘Stands the church clock at ten to three? / And is there honey still for tea?’ are well-known and well-loved. The poem captures an idea of Englishness which belongs to the years immediately preceding the First World War, which changed everything forever. The English way of life described in the poem would be altered drastically in all sorts of ways. Brooke seems to know, from his coffee-shop in Berlin, that its days are numbered. Two years later, he would be proved right.

T. S. Eliot, ‘East Coker’. Although T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) was born in the United States, he lived in England from 1914 and adopted British citizenship in 1927. ‘East Coker’ is unusual among Eliot’s poems in focusing on the English countryside. Detailing a visit to his ancestral home, the small Somerset village of East Coker, and dwelling on the Tudor communities who once inhabited the land, ‘East Coker’ is the second of Eliot’s Four Quartets and a great modernist poem about the English countryside.

R. S. Thomas, ‘The Village’. This fine poem about a Welsh village by one of the twentieth century’s greatest Welsh poets conveys the feel of a small village where hardly anything happens. Yet despite this, the village possesses a significance beyond itself: it is part of history.


* * * * * * * *

1876 map

The History of Cascade
& It's Irish Heritage


The Irishweb link
GRHC - March 17th, 2014

Transcript

The first foreign immigrants to come to the area were the Irish, brought here in 1835 to help dig the canals along the river. Their language was, of course, English, and their integration was easy. The Irish seemed to have followed the direction of the westward movement on the Erie Canal, which opened in 1825, and later on the railroads. Those who came here settled in the Creston area and on the west side. They made up a large part of St. Andrew’s and St. James’ parishes in the early years.

Later in the nineteenth century a branch of the Ancient Order of Hibernians was organized. They built a hall on Ottawa Avenue, near Michigan Street; it included an auditorium, billiard parlor, and bowling alleys. St. Patrick’s Day celebrations were held there, speakers were brought in, and entertainments were conducted in the auditorium.

The Hibernians had a band that played in parades, of which there were many in earlier days. But the organization waned when the newly founded Knights of Columbus established itself locally. However, there were Hibernian offshoots such as the Irish Fellowship Club and the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick.

In 1965, when a building was razed at the southwest corner of Crescent and Bond, a poster was uncovered; it advertised a Grand Ball and Picnic by the Ancient Order of the Hibernians on August 6th 1884.


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References












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Cascade School, 1898


CASCADE, Michigan

Cascade lies in the second tier of townships from the south and east line of the county, and is bounded on the north by Ada, on the east by Lowell, on the south by Caledonia, and on the west by Paris. The Detroit and Milwaukee Railroad passes through this town, entering on the north part of section 12, and following the course of the Grand River Valley through the southwest corner of section crossing section 2 in almost a direct line from southeast to northwest, into Ada, where is located its nearest depot, four miles from Cascade village.

GENERAL DESCRIPTION

Cascade presents a variety of soil, from light sand and gravel to heavy clay, and is greatly diversified by hills, valleys, steams, lakes, springs and marshes. Grand River flows northwest through sections 12, 1 and 2, into Ada, and the Thornapple -- one of the most important tributaries of Grand River -- takes its course north through the center of the township. Entering Cascade from the south on section 24, it flows through 27, 22, 16, 9,10, 3 and 4 to Grand River, at Ada village. On the east of the Thornapple, a creek rises in section 11, and enters that stream at section 10. Another, one branch of which rises in section 30, Lowell, and the other in section 1, of Caledonia, forms a junction at section 26, in Cascade, and carried its united currents to the Thornapple at 27; furnishing, in its route, water power to a saw mill on section 26. On the west side of the river, a creek rising on section 29, forms a junction with it on section 34. Another having its head on section 19, enters the river at 16. Another, whose source is a large boiling spring on section 6, in its course of two and a half miles attains considerable size, and empties its waters into the Thornapple at section 9. Remains of an old beaver dam were to be found on this creek, quite recently. On the southeast corner of section 14, is found a lake with a greater depth of water than Lake Erie. The aborigines of the country have a singular superstition with regard to this lake; never floating their canoes on its bosom, or eating the fish of its waters, asserting that it is inhabited by an "Evil Spirit" or as they term it, a "Great Snake." Another lake is also found on the line of sections 4 and 5. Also one in the northwest corner of section 8, matched by one some forty rods directly south.

TIMBER

This township contains but little pine, which is sparsely scattered along the borders of its streams. The sandy soil is chiefly oak openings; while the gravel and clay bear some fine sugar orchards and are also productive of beech, elm, ash, hickory, and a meager supply of white wood.

MINERAL WEALTH

Lime is manufactured on section 35. Brick have also been manufactured on section 8, and a bed of red ochre lying on section 9 was used in painting some of the first buildings and the old red school house on that section. The mineral is considered pure enough to be profitably worked. The soil also shows traces of bituminous coal, copper and iron. The latter ore, manifesting itself in magnetic or mineral springs. One of these, of greater power, has been discovered this year, on the farm of James Sutpehn, section 26. The water bubbles up from the well with icy coldness, and flows over a pebbly bed, staining --with brilliant coloring -- its stony path. Iron brought in contact with it becomes heavily charged with magnetism. The water has not yet been analyzed.

click to enlarge

EARLY SETTLEMENT

The township was at first a part of the township of Ada. Lewis Cook, a native of New Jersey, is said to have been the first settler within the limits of Cascade. He removed from that State to Seneca county, New York; from thence to Washtenaw county, in this state; from which he came, a pioneer settler to Cascade in 1836. At or near this time also came Mr. Hiram Laraway to this place from New York. His wife being a sister of Mrs. Cook. But, discouraged by the hardships of the wilderness, he soon returned to his native place. In the following year, Edward Linen, a native of Ireland - whose shores he left for America in 1836 - settled in Cascade, where he yet resides, a useful, industrious citizen.

During the year 1838, and the subsequent year, he was followed by James May, David Petted, John Farrell, James and William Annis, Michael Matthews, Patrick, Christopher and Michael Eardley, all natives of the same country, most of whom yet survive, orderly citizens of their adopted home. In 1838, Frederick A. Marsh, of New York, united in marriage with Olive Guild, a daughter of Joel Guild, one of the pioneer settlers of Grand Rapids - and began domestic life in the unbroken wilderness, one mile north, and west of where Cascade village now stands. Mr. Marsh lived to see the forest yield its place to cultivated fields and comfortable dwellings, and to have a school house erected on his own land. He was killed by a fall from his wagon in 1856. Mrs. Marsh, afterwards Mrs. Walden, survived her husband eleven years, and often spoke of those days, when her nearest neighbors were miles away, and for three months at a time she did not see the face of a white man, except her husband, while a human being passing over the newly cut road was a relief to her intense loneliness. She died at the old homestead in 1867.

Sometimes during 1839 or 1840, Mr. Laraway returned to his Cascade possessions, and was frozen to death between that place and Ada, in the winter of 1841. Widow Laraway bravely met the heavy burdens of pioneer life, and trained up three sons and daughters to lives of usefulness. While the name of aunt Mary Laraway became a household word in the community and a synonym of virtue and piety. She lived to see her children settled in life, and died suddenly in the summer of 1869. Her eldest son is well known as the proprietor of a stone-cutting establishment in Grand Rapids.

Peter and George Teeple came to Cascade during these years, joining the settlers on the west side of the Thornapple, while the eastern side was yet unmarked by civilization, but inhabited on or near sections 23 and 26, by a colony of about 350 natives, known, through the adoption of the name of their missionary, as the Slater Indians.

In the year 1841, Peter Whitney, of Ohio, moved his family into that part of Cascade known as Whitneyville, and E. D. Gove, of Mass., selected a site for his future home near the center of the township on sections 22, 15 and 14, to which he brought his family in the summer of 1842. Horace Sears, from New York, and Zerah and Ezra Whitney, (father and brother to Peter), accompanied them in their journey and settled in Whitneyville. Mr. Gove yet resides on the land he first settled, on section 15. But the old homestead on section 21 - being the second house built on the east side of the river, in this township - having sheltered children and grand children, was burned in the autumn of 1869. Mr. Sears yet lives in Whitneyville; and Zerah Whitney, elected Justice of the Peace at the first township meeting - now an aged man - resides with his son Ezra on a farm south of Grand Rapids. Another son of Zerah Whitney, Oscar, died at Whitneyville in 1849. And the remaining sons, Peter, Johnson and Martin, now reside in other parts of the county.

In the spring of 1845, Asa W. Denison and family, of Mass., (accompanied by a brother Gideon H. Denison, looking for a homestead, to which he brought his family the following year,) came to join the settlers on the west side of the Thornapple. Coming in on the State road, from Battle Creek to Grand Rapids, the teams, women and children of the company, were obliged to wait at Ezra Whitney's public-house, for the road to be "chopped-out" between that point and the river, theirs being the first teams that ever passed over the road. At Cascade they forded the Thornapple with their household goods, and found timbers on the ground for the erection of the old Ferry House (now Cascade Hotel,) which was, at that time, owned by D. S. T. Weller. During that year the house was so far completed as to admit of occupancy, and the first ferry-boat commenced its trips just above where the bridge now spans that stream. D. S. T. Weller then owned the plat of land now occupied by Cascade village, although first purchased by Joel Guild; and it was at that time staked out into lots of one acres each, as the fine fall on the river gave hopes for speedy erection of mills at that place, some of the most sanguine settlers prophesying that Cascade would outstrip Grand Rapids in the strife for precedence. Mr. W. sold out his property here to W. S. Gunn, in 1846, who held it until after the organization of the township. Mr. Weller ultimately settled in Grand Rapids city, where he remained until he transferred his home to Detroit, in 1869.

During the year 1845, a disease, which our old settlers denominate the black tongue, broke out among the Indians near Whitneyville, reducing their number in a few weeks to about 200 persons. The band now became slowly wasted by disease and removal, until less than fifty remained at the time of their removal to the Indian Reservation in 1856. In the year 1846, another family was added to the few settlers, of the east side of the river - Jared Strong, the first settler in the forest between E. D. Gove and Ada. The following year a school was opened in a little log house on the river bank, section 27, for the few pupils of that vicinity. Who the young woman was, to whom belongs the rank of pioneer teacher, we have been unable to ascertain, or whether this was the first school taught in the township. It was certainly the first on the east side of the river; and the lumber sawn for the Whitneyville school house, erected in 1848, was among the first work done by the old saw mill, on Sucker Creek, then owned by Peter Whitney. About this time, the Kalamazoo stage made its trips through Whitneyville - via Ada - for Grand Rapids.

ORGANIZATION

The first township meeting was held at Whitneyville, April 3, 1848, and the following board of township officers was elected :

Supervisor - Peter Teeple, Clerk - John R. Stewart. Treasurer - Asa W. Denison. School Inspectors - James H. Woodworth, Thomas I. Seeley. Commissioners of Highways - Ezra Whitney, Fred A. Marsh, Wm. Degolia. Justices of the Peace - Leonard Stewart, Zerah Whitney. Assessors - Thomas I. Seeley, Harry Clark. Constables - Morris Denison, O. P. Corson, Wm. Cook, Peter J. Whitney.

Of the above board, Peter Teeple is yet a respected member of the township. J. R. Stewart, after filling out other offices of trust, and teaching for several terms the Cascade school, removed to the city, where he now resides. A. W. Denison, was also a recipient of the various gifts of the voting public, for many years, and died from injury by the kick of a colt, in 1857, aged 52 years, universally mourned by his townspeople. His widow -- now Mrs. Johnson -- yet lives, and to her are we indebted for much of our information in regard to the early days of Cascade. J. H. Woodworth is now engaged in fruit culture in the north part of the township, near Ada village. Of T. I. Seeley we have known nothing since 1853. Messrs. Whitneys and Marsh, we have spoken of our preceding pages. Wm. Degolia amassed a fine property, and left the county in 1869. A few months after his removal, his body was brought back for burial. L. Stewart is also with those, who, sleeping, dream not! Harry Clark yet lives, where he first broke ground, a hale old man. Mr. Denison is a thriving farmer on the north line of the township.

About the year 1848, W. H. Chillson came to Cascade and erected a small dwelling house near the hotel; also a log house just across the river, to which, in 1849, Rev. Erie Prince, of Ohio, brought a small stock of Yankee notions and opened a store, or grocery, for those whose nearest trading point was Grand Rapids. Elder Prince deserves more than a passing notice. He soon identified himself with the religious, and the educational needs of the young community. He held at one time the office of School Inspector, and, up to the time of his death, worked actively in the Sunday school cause, as Superintendent in the different neighborhoods, now grown around the first nucleus of settlers. Was a picnic or temperance meeting to be looked after, or were chastened hearts called to lay their treasures in the dust, Elder P. was ever found ready to speak the kindly word, pour forth the earnest appeal, or -- with tender thought of sympathy -- lead the sorrowing mourner to Him, who is the "resurrection and the life." The fathers and mothers of the little ones of today remember with affectionate respect the tall, slightly bowed form, the kind face, the searching, yet mild gray eye, the hand slightly laid on the head, as he passed them with some friendly question, or brief admonition -- seed sown in life's morning time! In the autumn of 1853 he was called upon to speak before the Kent County Agricultural and Horticultural Society, at Grand Rapids, October 6th; and his address will be found in the records of the society for that year. About the year 1856 he donated to the township of Cascade the land occupied by the Cascade cemetery, and there his body lies buried. His grave is shadowed by a young oak, and unmarked -- by an explicit clause in his will -- by a headstone. He died August 7, 1862, aged 65. In church connection he was a Presbyterian.

We have been unable to learn the precise time that a postoffice was given this township. We think, however, it was established at Whitneyville, soon after its organization. The first postmaster was Clement White, who held that position with only an intermission of one or two years, until the office was discontinued in 1868.

A postoffice was also established at Cascade in 1854, postmaster Dr. M. W. Alfred, the first resident physician. A store was opened the same year at Cascade by Seymour Sage, and William Gardner. When the drumbeat of the Union echoed through our land in 1861, Cascade was not forgetful of her trusts and privileges as a small member of a great country. It is to be regretted that no complete list of those who donned the soldier's uniform has been preserved. We have called to mind eighty volunteers and the number is probably about a hundred. Of those who never returned we are also unable to give a perfect record. But, from every battle of the Republican from 1861 to the close of the contest, came back a voice bidding some heart grow chill with pain, yet glow with hallowed pride, for the souls that were "marching on!"

CASCADE TO-DAY

Cascade has been an organized township for twenty-two years, and according to the census for 1870, has 1175 inhabitants. Children, between the ages of five and twenty, by report of the public schools, 1869 -- 416. Votes cast at this last April election -- 227. Property assessed, real estate, $204,107; personal, $32,317.

The following is the present Board of township officers: Supervisor, Edgar R. Johnson; Clerk, Henry C. Denison; Treasurer, Geo. W. Gorham; Justices of the Peace, Geo. S. Richardson, John F. Proctor, Lawrence Meach, Hugh B. Brown; School Inspectors, E. R. Johnson, Chas. F. Holt: Highway Commissioners, Jonathan W. Sexton, Clinton A. Wood, Chas. M. Dennison; Constables, S. G. Fish, T. J. Hulbert, Miner Spaulding, Warren Streeter.

SCHOOL HOUSES

Cascade can claim one or two school houses of decidedly fine appearance and convenience. But many of her school buildings are those erected in her infancy, and are wholly inadequate to the demands of the present school population. A movement is being made, however, to remedy this defect in many districts.

Her present number of districts is ten. District No. 10 was organized in 1847. There is a frame house on section 35, built in 1848. District No. 4 was organized in 1847, and built a small frame house on section 9; are now (1870) erecting a fine structure on the same site, on the Cascade and Grand Rapids road, one mile from Cascade village. District No. 1 was organized in 1848, and built a school house in 1849, on section 29, which stood until 1869, when a frame house was erected on the same site. District No. 2 was organized in 1849, and built a small log house on section 10, which yet stands. District No. 12 (fractional district, Cascade and Paris) was organized in 1849, and built a small log house on section 10, which yet stands. In 1867 a good frame house, painted white, and protected by window blinds, was erected. District No. 3 was organized in 1853, and built a frame house on section 14, in 1854. District No. 8 has a frame school house, painted white, built in 1856, on section 8. Fractional District No. 10 (Cascade and Lowell) was organized in 1859, and has a small log house on east side of section 13. District No. 5 was organized in 1857, and school taught in a small log house on south side of section 33; was reorganized in 1860 and log house built in center of section 33. This was burned in 1867, and a temporary building has supplied its place until the present year. A fine house is now in process of erection in section 28. District No. 6 was organized about 1860, and has a nice frame school building, painted white, and fitted with black walnut furniture, on section 26.

CHURCHES

Only one church edifice has been erected in Cascade. This has been built by the Roman Catholic Brotherhood, and stands on the northeast corner of section 31. It was built in 1856, and cost about $1,000. The building is of wood, with a stone foundation. The society worshipping here was founded by Fathers Decunic and Fizaski. The latter was parish priest in 1849, when the church members were few and worshipped in private houses. Now the church numbers about 47 families, to whom Father Rivers preaches monthly. A Sabbath School is connected with the church. The M. E. Church also has two classes in this township, numbering about 60 members and worshipping in school houses. The United Brethren persuasion have a small charge of about a dozen members. And the "Christians" also hold public worship, but the strength of the order we have not ascertained.

We regret our inability to give the number and membership of our Sunday Schools; though nearly every district has one connected with its regular church worship.

CEMETERIES

Cemeteries are located on section 31 -- Catholic. Section 16 -- Cascade Burial Ground. Section 35 -- Whitneyville. Section 7 -- West part of township.

CASCADE VILLAGE

Cascade village is located on the line of sections 9 and 16, on the west side of the Thornapple river. It contains a Hotel, now owned by DeWitt Marsh, where all the township business is transacted; a general store, and Post-office, in charge of E. D. Johnson; flouring and saw mills, owned by H. L. Wise and Jacob Kusterer; a physician's office, occupied by Dr. Danforth; and less than a dozen private residences. The flouring mill is a large, well constructed building, will a capacity of three run of stone. Dr. Danforth is the resident physician, and is making preparations for opening a drug store in connection with his office. His practice is Eclectic.

Gaylord Holt, professor and teacher of music, resides one mile north of Cascade, on the river road. This was also the former home of Hon. H. H. Holt, now of Muskegon, who has represented his district in the State Legislature.

WHITNEYVILLE

Whitneyville is a point on the old State Road, between Battle Creek and Grand Rapids; and is situated on section 35. A Hotel, erected there in 1853, and familiarly known as the Whitney Tavern Stand, yet opens its doors to the public, under charge of S. F. Sliter. James Stephen now owns the old Whitney saw mill on section 26.


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Cascade Township, Michigan
Cascade Township, Michigan
Cascade Charter Township
Former township hall in Cascade Township
Former township hall in Cascade Township
Motto: 
"Serene vistas... Plentiful trees... Two rivers... One community"[1]
Location within Kent County (red) and an administered portion of the Forest Hills CDP (pink)
Location within Kent County (red) and an administered portion of the Forest Hills CDP (pink)
Cascade Township is located in Michigan
Cascade Township
Cascade Township
Location within the state of Michigan
Coordinates: 42°54′09″N 85°29′42″WCoordinates42°54′09″N 85°29′42″W
CountryUnited States
StateMichigan
CountyKent
Established1848
Government
 • SupervisorGrace Lesperance
 • ClerkSusan Slater
Area
 • Total34.86 sq mi (90.29 km2)
 • Land33.88 sq mi (87.75 km2)
 • Water0.98 sq mi (2.54 km2)
Elevation
663 ft (202 m)
Population
 (2010)
 • Total17,134
 • Density505.7/sq mi (195.3/km2)
Time zoneUTC-5 (Eastern (EST))
 • Summer (DST)UTC-4 (EDT)
ZIP code(s)
49301 (Ada)
49302 (Alto)
49512 (Grand Rapids)
49546 (Grand Rapids)
Area code616
FIPS code26-081-13660[2]
GNIS feature ID1626037[3]
WebsiteOfficial website

Cascade Charter Township is a charter township of Kent County in the U.S. state of Michigan. The population was 17,134 at the 2010 census.[4]

The township is part of the Grand Rapids metropolitan area and is located just east of the city of Grand Rapids. The township is the location of Gerald R. Ford International Airport.

Communities

  • Cascade is an unincorporated community within the township at the intersection of 28th Street and Cascade Road. Cascade was initially platted in 1845 by D. S. T. Weller. It had a post office from 1854 until 1910.[5]
  • Forest Hills is an unincorporated community and census-designated place that occupies the northern half of the township. The CDP consists of 17.81 square miles (46.13 km2) (51.09%) of the township's area and 12,917 township residents (75.39%) at the 2010 census. Forest Hills is organized for statistical purposes only and also contains a large area of Ada Township to the north. It is the largest CDP in the state of Michigan in both area and population.

History

The township was originally a part of Ada Township and was separately organized in 1848.[6]

The Whitney Tavern Stand is located within the township. It was built in 1853 and is listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

Geography

According to the U.S. Census Bureau, the township has a total area of 34.86 square miles (90.29 km2), of which 33.88 square miles (87.75 km2) is land and 0.98 square miles (2.54 km2) (2.81%) is water.[4]

The township is situated in the southeastern section of Kent County, approximately 10 miles (16 km) southeast of Grand Rapids. A defining feature of the township is the Thornapple River, which divides the township into east and west halves. The township is bordered to the west by the city of Kentwood, to the north by Ada Township, to the east by Lowell Charter Township, and to the south by Caledonia Charter Township.

Transportation

Airport

Major highways

  •  I-96 runs east–west through the center of the township.
  •  M-6 enters at the southern portion of the township and has its eastern terminus at I-96.
  •  M-37 (Broadmoor Avenue) enters briefly at the southwestern corner of the township.

Education

The township is served by three public school districts. Caledonia Community Schools serves the southern portion of the township. Most of the township is served by Forest Hills Public Schools, and Lowell Area Schools serves a small eastern portion of the township.[7]

West Michigan Aviation Academy is a charter high school located within the township.[8]

Demographics

As of the census[2] of 2000, there were 15,107 people, 5,394 households, and 4,374 families residing in the township. The population density was 445.7 inhabitants per square mile (172.1/km2). There were 5,638 housing units at an average density of 166.3 per square mile (64.2/km2). The racial makeup of the township was 94.55% White, 1.00% African American, 0.28% Native American, 3.06% Asian, 0.26% from other races, and 0.85% from two or more races. Hispanic or Latino of any race were 0.87% of the population.

There were 5,394 households, out of which 39.3% had children under the age of 18 living with them, 75.1% were married couples living together, 4.5% had a female householder with no husband present, and 18.9% were non-families. 16.7% of all households were made up of individuals, and 8.0% had someone living alone who was 65 years of age or older. The average household size was 2.80 and the average family size was 3.16.

In the township the population was spread out, with 29.4% under the age of 18, 4.7% from 18 to 24, 23.8% from 25 to 44, 30.8% from 45 to 64, and 11.4% who were 65 years of age or older. The median age was 41 years. For every 100 females, there were 98.4 males. For every 100 females age 18 and over, there were 94.8 males.

The median income for a household in the township was $87,290, and the median income for a family was $98,013. Males had a median income of $71,960 versus $37,234 for females. The per capita income for the township was $39,470. About 1.5% of families and 2.3% of the population were below the poverty line, including 2.3% of those under age 18 and 3.4% of those age 65 or over.

Notable people

References

  1. ^ "Cascade Township, Michigan". Cascade Township, Michigan. Retrieved October 24, 2021.
  2. Jump up to:a b "U.S. Census website"United States Census Bureau. Retrieved 2008-01-31.
  3. ^ U.S. Geological Survey Geographic Names Information System: Cascade Township, Michigan
  4. Jump up to:a b "Michigan: 2010 Population and Housing Unit Counts 2010 Census of Population and Housing" (PDF)2010 United States CensusUnited States Census Bureau. September 2012. p. 28 Michigan. Archived (PDF) from the original on 2012-10-19. Retrieved October 19, 2021.
  5. ^ Romig, Walter (October 1, 1986) [1973]. Michigan Place Names: The History of the Founding and the Naming of More Than Five Thousand Past and Present Michigan CommunitiesGreat Lakes Books Series (Paperback). Detroit, Michigan }p=101: Wayne State University PressISBN 0-8143-1838-X.
  6. ^ Ashlee, Laura (2005). Traveling Through Time: A Guide to Michigan's Historical Markers. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. p. 222. ISBN 9780472030668.
  7. ^ Michigan Geographic Framework (15 November 2013). "Kent County School Districts" (PDF)Archived (PDF) from the original on 2014-08-20. Retrieved September 28, 2021.
  8. ^ "Home". West Michigan Aviation Academy. Retrieved 2019-08-175363 44th Street SE, Grand Rapids, MI 49512

External links


Tuesday, March 14, 2023

210 Sacred Poems - Compiled by Jay McDaniel


Photo by Jorge Salvador on Unsplash


210 Sacred Poems

by Jay McDaniel
December 2020

"Reading sacred poetry is a time-honored spiritual practice. If you'd like to incorporate it into your devotions, we have many resources at Spirituality & Practice for you."

​Thus write Frederic and Mary Ann Brussat in the world's most inclusive interfaith resource center, the website Spirituality and Practice. Every April for the last seven years, during National Poetry Month in the United States, they have offered thirty poems for interfaith readers. I have compiled the poems into one list of 210 poems, with links to their site for each poem. Enjoy.

  1. The Sun Never Says by Hafiz
  2. One Song by Rumi
  3. Metamorphosis by May Sarton
  4. Attachment by Vasant Lad
  5. Questions by Ghalib
  6. Ryokan and Mary Lou Kownacki
  7. Hum by Mary Oliver
  8. All That Is Joy by Rabindranath Tagore
  9. My Joy by Rabi'a
  10. Haiku by Buson and Issa
  11. Ecstatic Poems by Kabir
  12. Beauty and Ugliness by Lao Tzu
  13. Waging Peace by Sarah Klassan
  14. The Same Inside by Anna Swir
  15. Tears by Svein Myreng
  16. That Nature Is a Heraclitean Fire and of the Comfort of the Resurrection by Gerard Manley Hopkins
  17. There Is No Road by Antonio Machado
  18. Don't Make Lists by Dorothy Walters
  19. Aware by Denise Levertov
  20. 1979 by Wendell Berry
  21. I Like You by Kevin Anderson
  22. Roll Call by William Stafford
  23. Stone by Charles Simic
  24. For What Binds Us by Jane Hirshfield
  25. Love after Love by Derek Walcott
  26. Healing by Joseph Bruchac
  27. Ars Poetica by Blaga Dimitrova
  28. Earth Verse by Gary Snyder
  29. The Good News by Thich Nhat Hanh
  30. Hold on to April by Jesse Stuart
  31. Trees Can Be Our Teachers by Satish Kumar
  32. Live With the Spirit by Jessica Powers
  33. Sixty-Four by Daniel Skatch-Mills
  34. Open the Window by Rumi
  35. Fern-Leafed Beech by Moyra Caldecott
  36. Wild Things by Wendell Berry
  37. Three Poems on Presence by Baisao
  38. Miracles by Daniel Berrigan
  39. Butterflies by Siegfried Sassoon
  40. Living by Denise Levertov
  41. Goodnight by Carl Sandberg
  42. Two Prayers on Grace by James Vanden Bosch
  43. What Is the Greatest Gift? by Mary Oliver
  44. Three Poems on Hope
  45. Not Enemies by Stephen Levine
  46. Olive Trees by Marilyn Chandler McEntyr
  47. Split the Sack by Rumi
  48. The Earth Is Waiting For You by Thich Nhat Hanh
  49. Surviving Has Made Me Crazy by Mark Nepo
  50. On Forgiveness by Karyn Kedar
  51. Morning Has Broken by Eleanor Farjeon
  52. Rendition of Psalm 41 by Nan Merrill
  53. Welcome Morning by Anne Sexton
  54. Love Poems by Susan Landon, Ann Reisfeld Boutte, and Susan R. Norton
  55. First Night by Julia Ackerman
  56. An Atom of Love by Yunus Emre
  57. Dear Diary by Leonard Cohen
  58. Freedom to Marry by Barbara Hamilton-Holway
  59. Four Sufi Poems
  60. Icon by Mary Rose O'Reilley
  61. Ecstasy by Hayden Carruth
  62. Love Sonnet by Pablo Neruda
  63. The Layers by Stanley Kunitz
  64. Let Evening Come by Jane Kenyon
  65. The Answering Machine by Linda Pastan
  66. Soil by Richard H. Goodman
  67. Zero Circle by Rumi
  68. The True Nature of Your Beloved by Hafiz
  69. Sweet Darkness by David Whyte
  70. Gift by Czeslaw Milosz
  71. A poem by Mirabai
  72. A poem by Lalla
  73. A poem by St. Catherine of Siena
  74. A poem by Meister Eckhart
  75. Against Certainty by Jane Hirshfield
  76. Serenity Is Not by Katherine Swarts
  77. Oneness by Thich Nhat Hanh
  78. A poem by William Stafford
  79. A poem by Mary de La Valette
  80. A Place to Sit by Kabir
  81. Living in Hope by Suzanne C. Cole
  82. A poem by Jim Cohn
  83. Who Knows What Is Going On? by Juan Ramon Jimenez
  84. The Guardian Angel by Rolf Jacobsen
  85. It Is That Dream by Olav H. Haug
  86. Questions by Peter Dixon
  87. Have You Not Heard His Silent Steps? by Rabindranath Tagore
  88. God's Name by Tukaram
  89. Sometimes by Hermann Hesse
  90. There You Are by Rumi
  91. Earth, Sister Earth by Dom Helder Camara
  92. The Way They Held Each Other by Mira
  93. A Cushion for Your Head by Hafiz
  94. Annunciation by Marie Howe
  95. Just Stop by Baba Afdal Kashani
  96. That Passeth All Understanding by Denise Levertov
  97. Summing Up by Claribel Alegria
  98. After the Sea by John O'Donohue
  99. The First Book by Rabindranath Tagore
  100. The Clay Jug by Kabir
  101. White Apples by Donald Hall
  102. In the World by Brigid Lowry
  103. A poem on Love by Kabir
  104. Remember by Joy Harjo
  105. Nothing Much by Allison Harris
  106. A poem on silence by Baisao
  107. Peonies at Dusk by Jane Kenyon
  108. Reasons to Meditate by Lisa Cullen
  109. The First Book by Rita Dove
  110. A poem on abundance by St. Catherine of Siena
  111. Soil by Richard H. Goodwin
  112. Seeking Your Trace by Fakhr al-Din Iraqi
  113. Vision by May Thielgaard Watts
  114. A poem on devotion by Mary Lou Kownacki
  115. A poem on kindness by Margaret Jain
  116. A poem on transformation by Hugh Robert Orr
  117. What Does Light Talk About? by St. Thomas Aquinas
  118. Love Is by May Swenson
  119. Leisure by W. D. Davies
  120. Gift by Czeslaw Milosz
  121. The Old Elm Tree by the River by Wendell Berry
  122. Love at First Sight by Wislawa Szymborska
  123. Never Lose the Way by Shihab al-Din Yahya Suhrawardi
  124. Living the Scriptures by Lalla of India
  125. So Much Happiness by Naomi Shihab Nye
  126. There Is a Wonderful Game by Hafiz
  127. Poetry by Pablo Neruda
  128. On Ordinary Daily Affairs by Layman P'ang
  129. A Kiss by Deborah Garrison
  130. Is My Soul Asleep? by Antonio Machado
  131. On Mother Earth by Jamie Sams
  132. When Your Life Looks Back by Jane Hirshfield
  133. Memory by Jorge Luis Borges
  134. Ask Me by William Stafford
  135. Briefly It Enters, and Briefly Speaks by Jane Kenyon
  136. A poem - prayer about love and life by Kuan Tao-sheng
  137. A poem-prayer for solidarity and justice by Arthur Waskow
  138. Growing older with beauty by Robert Terry Weston
  139. A Lover Who Wants His Lovers Near by Rabia
  140. God Would Kneel Down by St. Francis of Assisi
  141. How Then Can We Argue? by Meister Eckhart
  142. Each Soul Completes Me by Hafiz
  143. This Place of Abundance by St. Catherine of Siena
  144. First He Looked Confused by Tukaram
  145. Ode to My Socks by Pablo Neruda
  146. Summing Up by Claribel Alegria
  147. If You Have Nothing by Jessica Powers
  148. Paper Cranes by Thomas Merton
  149. God Paints the Rainbows by Barb Laski
  150. A poem about wisdom by Makeda, Queen of Sheba
  151. In a Holy Book I Have by Hafiz
  152. Little Things by Sharon Olds
  153. Joy by Robert Morneau
  154. The Road to God by Melannie Svoboda
  155. A poem by Henry Van Dyke
  156. Chilean Creed by James Conlon
  157. A poem by Edward Searl
  158. A poem by Judith Billings
  159. The Inner History of a Day by John O'Donohue
  160. A Marriage, an Elegy by Wendell Berry
  161. The Book of Endings by Sam Taylor
  162. A poem by Hildegard of Bingen
  163. Marriage by Susan R. Norton
  164. A poem by St. John of the Cross
  165. A poem by J. David Scheyer
  166. My Life by Billy Collins
  167. The Foot-Washing by A. R. Ammons
  168. Simon the Cyrenian Speaks by Countee Cullen
  169. Early Lynching by Carl Sandburg
  170. Easter Night by Alice Meynell
  171. Throw Yourself Like Seed by Miguel de Unamuno
  172. The Madness of Love by Hadewijch of Antwerp
  173. Human Wisdom by Charles Peguy
  174. The Gift by Zoraida Rivera Morales
  175. A poem by Ly Ngoc Keiu
  176. Passing Through by Stanley Kunitz
  177. From Recovery by Rabindranath Tagore
  178. A poem by Novalis
  179. Diving by A E I Falconer
  180. Was it Light? by Theodore Roethke
  181. The Journey of the Mind by Anya Dunaif
  182. Looking West by Sofiy Inck
  183. What Is a Hero? by Nimai Agarwal
  184. The Word by Swastika Jajoo
  185. After I Die by Niti Majethia
  186. True… Or Not? By Swastika Jajoo
  187. I See The Night by Maya Mesh
  188. Sowing Hope by Tammata Murthy
  189. Ever Deeper: A Poem for My Grandfather by Will Hodgkinson
  190. Blue by Victoria Krylova
  191. Pure Love by Gertie-Pearl Zwick-Schachter
  192. When the Universe Sings Goodnight by Niti Majethia
  193. Plastic Tractors by Will Hodgkinson
  194. Perfume Bottles by Fareeha Shah
  195. Rift into Childhood by Gracie Griffin
  196. When the Sun by Charlotte Rauner
  197. The Playground in Winter by Maria Christian
  198. The Soul of Nature by Niti Majethia
  199. Not Yet by Caie Kelley
  200. Artemis by Alice Simmons
  201. The Divine Vision by Tanmaya Murthy
  202. Backyard Woods by Isabel Bautista
  203. The Pear Tree by Caroline Harris
  204. I always feel like myself by Pie Rasor
  205. Volunteer by Rafik Maharja
  206. With a Pencil in My Hand by Gracie Griffin
  207. The Sunset of My Life by Meenu ravi
  208. The Watching One by Lucia O'Corozine
  209. Selected Poems from Around the World by Mary Ernesi, Tanika Stewart, and Odelia
  210. Snowflakes Carry My Worries Away by Katie Champlin




Why Read?

In the clatter and clamor of our lives, we need ways to connect deeply with our souls. Whenever we feel depleted, our favorite poets invariably refresh and refuel us. The quality of their attention, the way they notice things we easily overlook, summons the joy and wonder within us. Their songs of both praise and lament speak the words it is sometimes hard for us to articulate. They put us in the presence of the ineffable and the holy. We drop our jaws and swallow our pride...Businessman James Autry captures another attraction of poetry — it "gives you permission to feel." The best poets tap into our deepest yearnings.

- Mary Ann and Frederic Brussat, Spirituality and Practice


What makes a poem sacred?

A poem is sacred if, after reading it or listening to it, you are just a little wiser and kinder, more creative and playful, more attuned to beauty and shocked by injustice, than you would have been otherwise. The poem makes a difference in how you think and live.

The poem need not be religious in order to be sacred. It does not have to be about God or heavenly ecstasy, or use words like holy and sacred and spiritual. Yes, it can have such themes. It can be obviously religious. But it can also be about ordinary life, about cars and dogs and sidewalks, about whole or broken relationships, about sadness and beauty and moonlight, about planets and tulips and cat's eyes.

Sacredness is a relationship between you and the poem. It lies in how you read the poem and in the fruits of your reading. Here are some of the best fruits of sacred reading, borrowed from Spirituality and Practice.


These fruits are practical and ordinary. The sacred becomes fully sacred only when its values are expressed in daily life: at home and in the workplace, among neighbors and strangers, in the parking lot and the schoolyard, in the voting booth and community center. The purpose of sacred poetry is to help you live wisely and compassionately, with love and vitality, in the world beyond poetry. As it achieves its purpose, it simultaneously refreshes and refuels your soul. It gives you permission to feel.

- Jay McDaniel, December 2020



Reading Fragments of Poems
​as a Spiritual Practice

Recently some friends of mine started an online poetry journal called Heron Tree. It offers you one poem a week - absolutely free.

As I write this, the poem for the week is Onion Pie by Joey Nicolletti. It begins like this:

The wind, the rattling wall, dinner
baking in the oven, the dead of winter
a string of salt diamonds
alight in a street of slush and starlit ice,
and the cat retires
to his feathery bed.

It is wintertime. I picture my own cat named Zooey, retiring to her own feathery bed. I think of how delicious it would be to have some onion pie. I picture the street outside, which had not long ago been salted with crystals. I remember the diamonds.

I may not read any further. I know that Joey Nicolletti hopes I will. After all, he wrote the poem as an organic whole, with each part related to the other parts. In her now classic The Life of Poetry (1949) Muriel Rukeyser speaks of poems as organic wholes full of movement, which grow like trees. She is famous for saying that the universe is like stories, not atoms. For her a poem is a story, too.

But sometimes I think it's fine just to nibble at a poem, taking a line or series of lines that somehow nourish the imagination and not even completing it. If it's worth reading at all, it's worth reading halfway.

The western religious traditions have a tradition called lectio divina or sacred reading. When you read in a sacred way, you are not looking for rules to live by or ideas to master. You are looking for nourishment of the soul. You take in images from scripture, however fragmentary, and simply rest in them trusting that somehow, in the very resting, some divine nourishment is received. You let the images wash over you and inside you, in a kind of baptism of the imagination.

I need these baptisms. I need one poem a week. I need some onion pie to sink my imagination into, taking a break from the compulsively busy lifestyle into which I so often fall. Buddhists tell us that paying attention to the world around us and the worlds within us in a mindful way is the heart of spirituality. Poetry can help - even if you nibble.

Nibbling

I choose the word nibbling with care. Reading poetry is a physical activity even as it is a spiritual activity. Even if we read silently, we hear our own voice reading inside our heads. We pause at the end of lines and between stanzas, not unlike the way in which we pause when we take a breath. Sometimes we quietly move our lips, too, in a subtle and unconscious way. And sometimes we read out loud. Some people draw sharp distinctions between reading out loud and reading silently. Not me.

As we read we bring our bodies with us. We are sitting or walking, standing or lying down. We are looking with our eyes. The founder of process philosophy, Alfred North Whitehead, says that all of our experiences begin with what he calls the withness of the body. Our bodies are not simply means by which we take our minds from one location to another; they are where the world meets us, including the world of poetry. As we read a poem our minds may be lost in a faraway land, but our bodies are here, with us, in the reading.

Imaginative Nibbling

Of course our imaginations are in the reading, too. Our imaginations enable us to move from one portion of the text to another, not unlike the way in which we might eat fruit salad. When you have a bowl of fruit salad in front of you, you choose the particular fruit -- bananas, strawberries, pineapple-- that strikes your fancy.

I think we can read poems like this, too. By this I mean two things. We do not need to read the whole poem if we are nourished by a part. We can stay with that part, and call it a night.

And even if we do read the whole poem, there is no need to read it in a linear fashion. We can jump from one section to another and then go back, not unlike the way in which we jump from one poem to another in an anthology, flipping back and forth. Call it non-linear nibbling.

Many contemporary poems are conducive to imaginative nibbling. They are a collage of lines which can be strung together in a linear order, forming an organic whole; but they can also be enjoyed in a non-linear way as a collage of fragments which can be seen as a whole but also have independent integrity.

Many sacred scriptures have this quality. Consider the Holy Qur'an. It is a collage of many different poems, and poems within poems, and poems within poems within poems. It is not a rule book, it is a cluster of warnings and invitations, helping us awaken to the unity -- the tawhid - within which we live and move and have our being. Some suras are warnings and some are invitations, but all are inviting us to experience awe and wonder.

Many poems are like mini-Qur'ans. This means that as you read them you can move from beginning to end; but you can also move from middle to beginning or from end to middle. And you can just stay on one or two lines if you are so inclined. You can begin in the middle, where all beginnings begin.

Beginning in the Middle

Think of how people read the Bible. There is no commandment in the Bible which says: "Thou shalt never begin in the middle." Jews and Christians begin in the middle all the time, turning to this book and that book within the good book. And for process thinkers, influenced by Whitehead, there may even be some divine sanction in it. According to process theology, the universe is without beginning or end. God does not create out of nothing but rather out of the pre-existing chaos at hand. This means that even the Holy One began in the middle when he or she began creating our universe. The chaos already existed. The Holy was just giving it a little order. If God can begin in the middle, we can, too. Let the winds of the spirit blow where they will.

For my part, when I begin in the middle, I always look for sentences that do not begin with "The." There is far too much declaration in the world today. Too many attempts to tidy things up, when there's so much beauty in the untidy. Too many ideologies of heart and mind. Buddhists teach us that there is a lot of spirituality in not having fixed views.

Kissed by Steam

There is a Zen rock garden in Kyoto that's designed so that, wherever you stand, you cannot see the whole. You see sand and the rocks, but no possibility for a controlling overview. All good poems are like this. Even if they come across as organic wholes, there's no final interpretation. Freedom from finality of statement is one of poetry's greatest gifts to humanity.

This is why it can be important -- even spiritually enlightened -- to focus on fragments. You are reminding yourself that even if you read the poem as a whole, this whole is nested in a larger whole -- the forever fluid rock garden of the universe -- which is never fully encompassed by any finite observer. Heidegger reminds us that we are always already inside this whole, and that we can never stand outside it and pretend that we are mere spectators.

When a simple line or phrase in the middle of a poem becomes the subject of your attention, you are aware of an immediate textual background that you don't know and comprehend. You are deciding not to know this background, at least for the moment.

This deciding not to know the whole is an act of faith. It is faith that there can be meaning in the particular which transcends the meaning of the whole, even as there is meaning in the whole which transcends the meaning of the particular. Here are the last two lines of Joey Nicolletti's poem:

my wife pulls the Onion Pie
out of the oven, kissed by steam.

Blake reminds us to see heaven in a wildflower and the universe in a grain of sand.

Onion Pie reminds us that there's more than a little divine steam when you take an onion pie out of the oven on a cold, cold day.

Maybe that is one of the purposes of poetry at its best. Maybe it helps us become kissed by the steam.

​- Jay McDaniel, December 2020


Photo by Ricardo Espejo Catalán on Unsplash