Great Regulars: Another treasured object is a small piece of

driftwood picked up on a beach in the Hamptons. It flows like the cresting of a wave and is lovely to look at. It serves no practical purpose, but I have become very attached to it, and it too is well traveled.

Many poets have written poems in celebration of the beauty of simple objects such as these. One of my favorites is a poem by Pablo Neruda called "Ode to My Socks." As translated by Robert Bly, the first stanza goes like this:

from Anthony Maulucci: Norwich Bulletin: On Poetry: Ordinary objects can become beautiful through words

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