American Life in Poetry: Chiller Pansies
I have irises that have been handed down through my family over the generations, being dug up again and again, moved to another house, another garden. Here's a poem about that sort of inheritance, by Debra Wierenga, who lives in Michigan.
Archive Material - Subscription required to continue reading
your account if you are a current Morris Sun Tribune subscriber.
Not sure if you have an account? Email us at firstname.lastname@example.org
and we can help you.