"Canned Food Drive" by Kathleen Lynch + Roasted Pea and Purple Barley Salad

As a child, when did you first become aware that people in the world who lived differently than you? I was about 10 years old. For several years, my family had volunteered at a meals-on-wheels-style nonprofit just one city over. I was still young, so my job usually involved scooping mashed potatoes into the plastic containers, or tying ribbon on Christmas presents in December, but this particular time, I rode in the car with my dad to help with the deliveries. We joined several other volunteers and made our way to motels and mobile home parks, knocking on doors and handing out the hot meals. It was Thanksgiving morning, a day to be grateful. We had made our way around the entire building but still had extra meals in the back of a truck, so we started making rounds again asking if anyone needed an extra one. A girl answered the door, about my age, and without so much as a breath of hesitation said, "No thank you. Other people need it more than me."

"Boy and Egg" by Naomi Shihab Nye + Creamy Scrambled Eggs

When I was in college, I once heard Naomi Shihab Nye give a reading and remember thinking how confident she was. Not in a loud, overbearing way, but she just stood in her poems so strongly, the way roots go down into the earth and support the large tree branches above it. Her voice had a certain quietness, but each word was spoken with a strength like she knew she had painstakingly chosen every word and placed them on the page just so, and that each word was exactly right.

"Tree" by Jane Hirshfield + Roasted Pepper and Lentil Soup

The California coastline is a long stretch of cliffs jutting down to the sea, but depending on exactly where you are in the state, the landscape can be quite different. Southern California is calmer, I think. Lighter blues, softer sand, golden rocks. Palm trees and eucalyptus trees bend over the edge, close enough to feel the mist of the sea. Once you climb north, the sea turns a deeper blue. The water is rockier, the waves rougher, the landscape more rugged and unforgiving. It's beautiful, wherever you are, but Jane Hirshfield, who wrote the poem I'm sharing today, is writing from the north.

Jane Hirshfield is one of my favorite contemporary poets. She is a master of illuminating the quiet places and finding meanings in the simple gestures of our daily life. Her poems are often greatly profound and spiritual, reminding us of connections beyond our physical bodies. I find myself returning to her poems often, never tiring of their beauty and insight.