A hand turned upward holds only a single, transparent question.
Unanswerable, humming like bees, it rises, swarms, departs.
–from Jane Hirschefield’s poem, “A Hand”
A hand turned upward holds only a single, transparent question.
Unanswerable, humming like bees, it rises, swarms, departs.
–from Jane Hirschefield’s poem, “A Hand”