• Poetry

    Words to the wise, from the woods

    Late October always tugs on my sleeve and insists that I slow down to take stock of the passing year. Despite the worries of the week, Mother Nature reminds me that life is all about cycles. Some seasons flow more easily than others, but I have reasons to be grateful for every one I’m given. Last week, on a walk through the woods, I looked across the ravine that dips down toward the river in St. Joe, and remembered this poem by Billy Collins: Directions The best time is late afternoon when the sun strobes through the columns of trees as you are hiking up, and when you find an agreeable…