As soon as the coffee is ready every morning, I head straight for the keyboard. Now that we have won, I intend to go first to one of the many poetry pages that are out on the web and pick a poem to read before diving into the news and commentary.  Thought some other folks might give it a try --it will help our politics in the difficult days ahead.  Here's what I found this morning.

I had never read it before. 

Autumn Grasses
by Margaret Gibson   In fields of bush clover and hay-scent grass the autumn moon takes refuge The cricket's song is gold Zeshin's loneliness taught him this Who is coming? What will come to pass, and pass? Neither bruise nor sweetness nor cool air not-knowing knows the way And the moon? Who among us does not wander, and flare and bow to the ground? Who does not savor, and stand open if only in secret taking heart in the ripening of the moon?