Poetry Sunday: Kate Nace Day
Kate Day shares her poem about grief.
My father came to Woods Hole in 1938. He recognized – and, later gave to his four children - a place to return, to be home. An actual and mental place of science, investigation, and history. A place of dreams, memory, and water. The four of us left, but we always returned. I now live with my husband in the house where I spent much of my childhood. Along the way, I published law review articles, essays, reflections, short stories, and a few poems - in eccentric ways, translating the gray, the salt, the granite into new forms and thoughts.