Mona Simpson said, "What I'd finally say about truth and autobiography is that all writers are probably trying to get at some core truth of life, at some configuration that is enduring and truthful. I just haven't found the truth to be my vehicle."
Winter
The small birds come
Uninvited to a feast.
There is no searching out
A bridegroom or bride
Yet seed scatters ceremoniously-
The distance of a beak thrust.
In this heaving of seed
There is faith. Faith that others
Too frightened to come near
Will be filled like Lazarus
Under the cleft
Of Abraham’s bosom.
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