My Morning Reading

I wasn't going to post anything today (despite another posting dry spell) because I'm in the middle of mid-semester grading (papers, papers, and now exams to add to the pile) -- but Brooklyn Copeland has a poem on the New York Times site, and I thought I'd repost it for two reasons.

First, I think this "Poetry Pairings" feature is really fucking cool, and thanks to Copeland, I've just discovered it. Second, I think her poem is really fucking cool, too. 

Her bio, which serves as an introduction to the poem (I'm not sure how I feel about that, NYT) points out that she's one of the youngest contributors to the Poetry Magazine anthology, "The Open Door: One Hundred Poems, One Hundred Years of Poetry Magazine." Age really shouldn't play a part in whether we think a poem (or a poet) is remarkable or not, and I think that's what the bio sets us up for -- however, the poem is remarkable no matter the age of the poet. It's quiet, careful, graceful, and the last four lines are so beautiful. The structure of the poem -- the little lines buffeted about much like the wind would move the rain (but doesn't, because "Despite it/the rain/falls straight") -- is apt, too.

It's such a tiny poem, and yet so gorgeously orchestrated. Love, love, love. So there.