"And gladly wolde he lerne and gladly teche"
Poem
From Holsteins I learned to recycle rinds and gristle, and to chew meticulously.
From my father, the relationship of visions and dirt. From my mother I learned how to polish.
From the Great Salt Lake I learned that faith by itself can’t keep you afloat.
From reading aloud in junior high, how to pronounce debris, Yosemite, Potomac.
From reading a news release, that you never know someone that well.
From marriage, that you need to trust anyway. From Shirley McClain, that small eyes
can cha cha. From Andy Warhol, to love and embrace boring things.
From motherhood, to pinch the nose and jump even though you never learned to swim.
From literature, to live with uncertainty. From dangling, that rungs of doubt have traction.