6. [As I get older, I become more and more interested in what poetry can do. And not just in what poetry is. For example, when Arielle (the poet who pushed me to write the defining poem about my son’s birth) gave birth to a stillborn baby three years ago, someone sent her a Mary Oliver poem that became very dear to her. I feel ashamed at how I’d dismissed Oliver as a “populist” poet, the deep sigh I’d take when a student wanted me to teach Oliver instead of someone I considered more “serious.” That Oliver’s poem comforted Arielle, even a little—that is worth so much to me now.]