No prep time this Friday, so today seems a good one to share an Indiana poet who is one of my absolute favorites, Jared Carter. I discovered his work in 1982, when I found his Walt Whitman Award-winning book of poems, Work, for the Night Is Coming, in the IPFW bookstore. He had me at 'Geodes.' (Do go read it: "They are useless, there is nothing / to be done with them, no reason, / only the finding....")
Visit Mr. Carter's web site and read several of his poems here. He's from Elwood, and actually worked at the Herald-Press in Huntington for a short time during a break from Yale. His full bio is here.
The snow today was light, hesitant, yet lingered long enough to cover everything, and these were the lines of which I thought -- especially 'the slow sift of the snow's falling' -- from Mr. Carter's poem 'Snow':
"Whatever was there before—
the worn broom leaned against the door
and almost buried now, the pile of brick,
the bushel basket filling up with thick,
gathering whiteness, half sunk in a drift—
all these things are lost in the slow sift
of the snow's falling...." Read it all here.