We call it “a beautiful hand,”
the trace a practiced pen leaves
on its travels across the page.
Or a fine hand, whose sleight,
swift and surprising, makes
old letters new and delights
the dulled and scampering eye.
Swash and tail entice the reader
to look again, slow and consider
what it is that catches the breath
just where a spur leaves the stem,
or where the spine curves.
Men and women of letters learn
by inscription: the shape and space
of an O teases the mind
to a place just beyond reason. The S
summons us to a winding way and the T
offers a place to alight. Alight
and watch the alphabet unfold
its thicket of veins and tendrils,
its solid declarations, its secrets.
Jun 19, 2017
Jun 19, 2017 at 11:33 AM UTC
We call it “a beautiful hand,”
the trace a practiced pen leaves
on its travels across the page.
Or a fine hand, whose sleight,
swift and surprising, makes
old letters new and delights
the dulled and scampering eye.
Swash and tail entice the reader
to look again, slow and consider
what it is that catches the breath
just where a spur leaves the stem,
or where the spine curves.
Men and women of letters learn
by inscription: the shape and space
of an O teases the mind
to a place just beyond reason. The S
summons us to a winding way and the T
offers a place to alight. Alight
and watch the alphabet unfold
its thicket of veins and tendrils,
its solid declarations, its secrets.