March 28 2026
Assurance by William Stafford
You will never be alone, you hear so deep
a sound when autumn comes. Yellow
pulls across the hills and thrums,
or the silence after lightning before it says
its names—and then the clouds' wide-mouthed
apologies. You were aimed from birth:
you will never be alone. Rain
will come, a gutter filled, an Amazon,
long aisles—you never heard so deep a sound,
moss on rock, and years. You turn your head—
that's what the silence meant: you're not alone.
The whole wide world pours down.
March 27 2026
Has Anyone Seen the Boy by Rumi
Has anyone seen the boy who used to come here?
Round-faced troublemaker, quick to find a joke, slow to be serious.
Red shirt, perfect coordination, sly, strong muscles, with things always in his pocket.
Reed flute, ivory pick, polished and ready for his talent. You know that one.
Have you heard stories about him? Pharoah and the whole Egyptian world collapsed for such a Joseph. I would gladly spend years getting word of him, even third- or fourth-hand.
