I've been cleaning house and found a stack of old letters my mother sent me. It seems no one writes letters anymore. My mother claims she was a terrible letter writer, always sharing the most boring tidbits, but the news from home was and is always welcome.
After spending nearly two weeks in the hospital, my mother has been in rehab for about a week. I've been writing short notes, but think a letter is long overdue. Perhaps even a poem is called for. So today I'm thinking of an epistle. An epistle is a poem read as a letter. One of my favorite epistle poems is by Elizabeth Bishop. Here's an excerpt.
Letter to N.Y.For Louise Crane
In your next letter I wish you'd saywhere you are going and what you are doing;how are the plays, and after the playswhat other pleasures you're pursuing:
taking cabs in the middle of the night,driving as if to save your soulwhere the road goes round and round the parkand the meter glares like a moral owl,
Read the poem in its entirety.
So, there's your challenge. Will you share an epistle with me this week?