This week I selected a poem by David McCord, one of my favorite children’s poets. In a New York Times article in 1964, he wrote this: “‘three things should be remembered: good poems for children are never trivial; they are never written without the characteristic chills and fever of a dedicated man at work; they must never bear the stigma of I am adult, you are a child.”
How true.
This is My Rock
by David McCord
This is my rock
And here I run
To steal the secret of the sun.
This is my rock
And here come I
Before the night has swept the sky.
This is my rock
This is the place
I meet the evening face to face.
Debbie Diller 