OK, “Belle-lettres” is maybe a bit pretentious sounding. Suggestions other than “other” welcome. But over time I plan to regale you all here with bits and pieces that don’t fit the other categories under “Writer” — you know, poetry, excerpts from my teen diaries, old shopping lists . . .You can’t wait, can you?
So for now, here’s a little poem from when I was 20 that I still like, written before I set out for several months abroad:
There was frost
like salt
on the ground the day of my leaving
there was no wind
or movement in the air
and yet
from the tree outside my window
the grey leaves
tumbled and fell
like wounded birds