Some poems arrive like a sudden tide — they rise in your heart before you even understand why. The River-Merchant’s Wife: A Letter, written by Li Bai in the 8th century and translated by Ezra Pound in 1915, came to me that way. When I read it for the first time, something inside me stilled.Continue reading "The River-Merchant’s Wife: A Letter By Li Bai (Li Po), translated by Ezra Pound (1915)"| Rebecca's Reading Room
This morning, I invite you to linger with a poet who might be unfamiliar: Elizabeth Madox Roberts, born in 1881 in rural Kentucky. Though she became widely known for her modernist novels, she also wrote poetry that carried the cadence of the fields, the garden rows, and the voices of children at play. She livedContinue reading "Meeting up with Elizabeth Madox Roberts"| Rebecca's Reading Room
Nebraska is my mother’s birthplace, a state of wide skies and endless fields. My own visits there remain vivid—especially September mornings when the air carried both warmth and a slight chill, as if the land itself was pausing between seasons. When I came across this poem by C. M. Barrow, I felt as if someoneContinue reading "September Morning in Nebraska"| Rebecca's Reading Room
John Russell McCarthy’s poem took me back years to the boreal forests of Northern Manitoba, where I grew up. I vividly recall walking among the poplars in early September. This brief, lyrical poem …| Rebecca's Reading Room
