The day after solstice

Sue and I exchanged our little gifts on Solstice. She gave me Mosab Abu Toha's book of poetry, Forest of Noise. Toha comes from Gaza, and his "Letter from Gaza" columns for The New Yorker have kept us informed when much of the press has moved on to various distractions. I won't quote his work for fear of violating copyright, but I urge others to buy it if they love words, if they enjoy poetry, if they care about Gaza. Some titles of poems in the book: "Palestinian Village," "Gazan Family Letters, 2092," "To My Mother, Staying in an UNRWA School Shelter in the Jabalia Camp," "Who Has Seen the Wind?" you get the idea. 

Powerful, beautiful poems. Buy a copy for someone you love.

This morning we walked in the dreary light, the wet world all around us, and these great grandmother London Plane trees, their aged dugs shining with wet moss.