“Love is a climate
small things find safe
to grow in.”
I recently came across Amy Clampitt’s poetry. Remarkably, she published her first collection of poems at the age of sixty-two. The poem The Kingfisher, in particular, captured the attention of literary critics and she became one of America’s major poets.
I’ve been reading Clampitt’s collected poems and came across her wonderful observation that “love is a climate” in her poem Smaller Orchid. I never thought of love in those terms or with that invitation. Have you?
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