About the poet
Linda Gregg [b. 1942], though born in New York, grew up in the woods of Marin County, California...
All that is uncared for.
Left alone in the stillness
in that pure silence married
to the stillness of nature.
A door off its hinges,
shade and shadows in an empty room.
Leaks for light. Raw where
the tin roof rusted through.
The rustle of weeds in their
different kinds of air in the mornings,
year after year.
A pecan tree, and the house
made out of mud bricks. Accurate
and unexpected beauty, rattling
and singing. If not to the sun,
then to nothing and to no one.
From All of It Singing: New and Selected Poems (Gray Wolf Press, 2008), copyright © 2008 by Linda Gregg, used by permission of Graywolf Press, www.graywolfpress.org
Sponsor this poem
Would you like to sponsor this poem? Find out how here.