“Geese cut a wedge out of the sky, drag the gray days behind them like a skein of old wool.”

CrookerToday is Thanksgiving Day — the perfect time to acknowledge with gratitude The Writer’s Almanac,  American Life in Poetry, and the Poetry Foundation. These organizations email poems to thousands of people like me who wish to read new work by new poets every day. I wouldn’t have heard of Barbara Crooker, who wrote the poem “Equinox,” the source of today’s Fine Line, if it hadn’t been for The Writer’s Almanac. The poems ends with: “night falls swiftly, tucking us in her black velvet robe, / the stitches showing through, all those little lights, / our little lives, rising and falling.”

Barbara Crooker, “Equinox,” from Selected Poems (Lexington, KY, Future Cycle Press, 2015), 123.

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