They were all at the Jane Hirshfield reading tonight. This is another in the Seattle Arts and Lectures' poetry series that my mom gave me as a birthday gift, and I have been loving.

I didn't love Hirshfield before I walked in the door. I found her poetry too spare and impersonal. I've changed my mind. I don't know if it was the wonderful introductions she did for each poem, the way she read, or the poems she chose, but, like the Hall reading, I found the evening fulfilling and transformational. She writes about permeability, finding the good in adversity, snakes under the bed, and salted plums.

Her practice of Zen informs all her work. She was erudite and grounded; the two don't always go together. I learned a lot from her. Here are two of my favorite poems from the evening:

Each Moment a White Bull

A Cedary Fragrance

I don't have colleagues any more, but why my current rabbi and doctor weren't there is a good question.