I am honored and excited to begin a year as Poet Laura. My first Laura was Laura Ingalls Wilder. I thought life on the prairie was more exciting than life in Southern California’s San Fernando Valley, but I had trees to climb and books to read, the library and the public pool were walking distance, and through one of the several nearby canyons, lay the pacific ocean.

She was a child and I was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
I and my Annabel Lee—
—Edgar Allan Poe, excerpted from “Annabel Lee”
When the English teacher, Miss D, required us to memorize a poem to recite before the class, I chose Poe’s The Bells, which, with its 113 lines, she said would be impossible to memorize. By then, tintinnabulation was my word, and I would not be deterred. What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
In college, I picked up a cargo of words as a Political Science major, having been talked out of Journalism and into Poli Sci by my professor, Ms. Ganer, the most brilliant person I had ever encountered.
Lingo
In college, I learned new words—
reification, nascent, inchoate—
hard to pronounce, even harder
to slide into conversation.
Ambiguity I loved, word describing
the world to me on my sail out
from the certain harbor of youth.
But ambivalence I made my own—
moving simultaneously toward
and away from what I loved,
fortress of the known unknown.
—Donna Hilbert, from Gravity: New & Selected Poems, 2nd Edition Moon Tide Press
As I settled into adulthood and slowly grew into myself, quotidian became my word, sounding weightier and more interesting than mundane, ordinary, or daily. The poet William Stafford says, “Our best work derives merely from a continuity of our daily selves.” I have adopted Stafford’s notion as my credo. I am most attracted to the lyric poem with its affinity to music, and I am most grateful to live by the sea.
Everything I loved as a child, I still love: trees, the sea, birds, flowers, poems.
After the Birds Begin to Sing from the Trees
Before the sun makes its way over the bay
before the sky softens to gray
before the blaze of the day begins
I rise, pull on my jeans, lace up my shoes
and enter the day, before the neighbors
are out, before the traffic begins,
before the phone rings,
while the day is blank as a page,
before I pick up my pen,
thank you, I say, let this day begin.
—Donna Hilbert, from Enormous Blue Umbrella, Moon Tide Press, 2025
The first two and a half lines of “A River” by Adam Zagajeski, tr. Renata Gorczynski:
Poems from poems, songs
from songs, paintings from paintings,
always this friendly impregnation
Here is a Tanka:
This is today’s song:
life is hard and exquisite
and the day begins.
Grace takes my hand and pulls me
from the bed into our dance.
—Ellen Rowland
My Mother Says
My mother says I sing like a bird
on a winter’s day,
my mother, whose grace catches
light on water,
on her changing face.
But if I am the bird and she the sea,
I sing because she flows through me.
—Amy Chan
Your Turn
What song might you sing about an ordinary day? Is any day ordinary? I find it an extraordinary gift to watch the sun rise and set each day, to witness the tidal highs and lows, and the migration of seabirds. Quotidian is my favorite word. What’s your favorite word?
Post and post photos by Donna Hilbert. Featured image by Maja Dumat, Creative Commons license via Flickr.
- Poet Laura: Trees, the Sea, Birds, Flowers, Poems - November 5, 2025






William Palmer says
This is wonderful and beautiful, Donna. And I love your Stafford quote. Bill
Donna J Hilbert says
Thanks so much, William. I am guided by that quote.
L.L. Barkat says
Welcome to the Poet-Laura-ship, Donna! 🙂
Such a fun post. This exclamation really made me smile: “What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!” Did you end up memorizing all 113 lines of “The Bells”?
Offhand, I can’t think of a favorite word. I do notice that I include windows and glass in a lot of my poems. So maybe I am more focused on image than word. Not sure. (Going to ponder this. 🙂 )
Donna J Hilbert says
I did memorize all 113 lines!
L.L. Barkat says
WOW! 🙂
(And that was the beginning of poethood, perhaps. 🙂
Donna J Hilbert says
It definitely was!
Bethany R. says
Donna, congratulations on beginning your year as Poet Laura!
I also love that quote you shared from Stafford. “Our best work derives merely from a continuity of our daily selves.” I tend to be drawn to poetry with everyday household objects in it, which I think connects with this idea. Thanks for writing and sharing this post and its photos with us!
Donna J Hilbert says
My pleasure!!
LeeAnn Pickrell says
I love this, Donna. All your words, such luscious words.
Donna JHilbert says
Thank you so much, LeeAnn!
Sandra Fox Murphy says
Welcome, Donna! I’m embracing all the word-loving in your column and your story of “superfluous.” We’ve all been there! “Here’s a Tanka” speaks to me. I thoroughly enjoyed your poem “Lingo,” especially the lines:
“But ambivalence I made my own—
moving simultaneously toward
and away from what I loved,”
I, too, am grateful for all my years living near the sea, and I continually wonder why I now live so far from it. I look forward to your next column.
Donna Hilbert says
Thank you for your kind words. I can’t imagine living anywhere but sea -side now.
Katie Spivey Brewster says
Oh, Donna!
What’s not to love about our new Poet Laura?
A lover of words
and birds
trees and sea
Poe and poems
plus flowers even!
Welcome, welcome:)
Gratefully,
Katie
Donna Hilbert says
Oh, Katie, thank you so much for your kind words! BTW, my maiden name was Bruster, which I am pretty sure began as Brewster but was changed somewhere along the way!
Linda Hoye says
Quotidian is one of my favourites too. That and liminal. Don’t you love how it rolls off the tongue.
Donna Hilbert says
I do! I love liminal as well❤️
Katie Spivey Brewster says
Squirrel Buddy
Just now
you scamper
across the yard
shimmy up the myrtle
find your perch
settle in
munch your lunch
Donna JHilbert says
Lovely!
Katie Spivey Brewster says
Thanks, Donna:)
Katie Spivey Brewster says
Shy Lizard
Zipping back
and forth
along the porch sill
Sitting in my chair
I watch you
wondering –
are you frightened by me?
Or are you just searching
for a way back outside
the screen.
I hope you’ll keep
sneaking back in.