These towns aren’t small
They recover space in our heart
If we let our feet out the door
The nothing we might wander into
Keeps our aspirations honest
A jug of milk swinging at my side
Refreshes the sidewalk
What else has been carried
Upon these crumbling paths?
I must unlearn the driving eye
Fixed upon life-and-death roads
Where a glance at my phone
Is near enough a glance in the ditch
While I wait to cross
The paved street in this town
To my left the road leaks out
Into tan countryside
Until it is swallowed by the sky
A field nearby alone receives
The grace of a cloud poured forth
Bars of light filter through
Silent pilgrims years on foot
In search of holy ground
photo by Hannah Anderson
Todd Anderson (Stuff of the Rind, Sand and Sail, The Reluctant Prophet) writes the newsletter Mirth to share a behind-the-scenes look at his writing process as well as to offer readers the first fruits of his poetry and reflections. He grew up in the forests of small-town Ontario, contending against nature in all its beauty and harshness. His training as a literary scholar of Latin and English literature inflects his love of poignant turns of phrase, but it is the influence of his family and their myriad adventures together that infuses his story-telling and poetry with its substance and power. Todd lives and writes in Ottawa with his wife and six children. If you are interested in supporting Todd’s work, please follow the links below to donate or buy his books.
Todd Edward Anderson 