Eady says one of his joys in reading Micklem’s manuscripts is discovering why she’s been reading the books that pile up in their various homes. Micklem radiates pride as she recalls hearing him read “Gratitude” for the first time; their writers’ retreat for two seems just as supportive as Cave Canem. As they stand in the driveway between their two cottages, discussing which restaurant to choose for an anniversary dinner en route to New York, it’s tempting to conjure the last lines of Eady’s poem “The White Couch”: “All this moving, he says. / Ah! He says. / This is living. / This is life.”
Jennifer May
Cornelius Eady
Jennifer May
Sarah Micklem
