Sophie Cabot Black is a poet, mother, administrator and treasure on the
American landscape.  As a teacher and decoder of life’s mysteries, she
offers the key to poetry’s powers and  the power of her poetry’s
unstudied grace.  Here she whispers as she drives and we hear the
unmistakable voice of one who considers the world with its inhabitants
in mind.


The tree becomes a sign I pass
Of how it has gone on; branches that hold
Up the first stars like waiting candles

Against the coming night. I have learned
To live with less and less
While the child in the backseat sleeps

Believing she is already home.
Out of her hand falls one shoe,
Her mouth stained with whatever kind
Of paradise she has wished for,

And something I had in mind
Darts across the road, a small animal
Moving perfectly between tires
As I look back to see nothing changed.

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