April 2019

Here we are, well into April already, the poetry month. In a nod to T.S. Eliot, St. Louis poet, buried in familial Somerset, I spell the word “cruellest” his way. In 2010, we read T.S. Eliot in the garden at Hays, Brent Knoll, in Somerset. My father, Brian, and his two brothers and sister were […]