Sylvia Plath, a poet from Massachusetts who lived in England during the late 1950s and early 1960s, wrote often of her inner turmoil and how it was reflected in the world around her. She had an uncanny ability to present the material of daily life in a way that felt fresh, surprising, and even a little bit frightening. She kept a thorough journal and also wrote detailed letters throughout her life, so that after her death, the public was fortunate enough to know her more deeply through the interweaving of her poetic and nonfiction writing. Plath had two children and valued her family life immensely–she adored cooking and taking care of her home. She wrote often about her children; their presence gave a light-hearted theme to her poetry during the lonelier periods of her life. Her husband of several years, before their separation, was a hunter and nature-lover, and Sylvia spent a good deal of time with him exploring the geography of her country, the United States, as well as enjoying the unique seaside and country towns Great Britain has to offer. Her interest in nature gravitated her poems towards meditations on animals; Plath also became a beekeeper, taking up the same hobby as her late father. In reading the many pages of her journals and letters alongside her poems, one finds a complicated person, not without flaws, who sometimes judged harshly, as well as a hard worker whose love of poetry was never eclipsed by her unstable life circumstances, and whose unique and avid mind allowed her to think deeply about herself in relation to her world. Plath died of mental illness at the young age of 30.

 Sylvia wrote two books of poems, “The Colossus,” published in 1960, and “Ariel,” published after her death. Below is her poem, “Black Rook in Rainy Weather.” I feel that this poem is a particularly good one to highlight during the beginning of the second semester and the start of winter; it is about searching for small instances of beauty during “the season of fatigue,” which for many includes those winter months, when we tend to become more sedentary and when many suffer those winter blues. Plath uses the setting of “rainy weather” as a backdrop for this moment, which she claims not to seek out on her own accord, not to “expect a miracle” as she is on her walk outside in the rain and spots this bird. However, she goes on to explain, she does like the interchange between herself and nature, the “backtalk / From the mute sky” that causes her senses to become more alert and alive; similarly, she says at times even everyday objects “leap incandescent” with “a certain minor light,” which makes them appear more special and honored, less ordinary.  This poem invites the reader to open themselves to such conduits of beauty or surprise during their day, to consider that even the most ordinary objects, beings, or people, even among the blandest or gloomiest atmospheres, can take on a curious, almost magical light, giving that single moment a jolt of electricity. Although she did “not expect a miracle,” toward the end of the poem, Plath claims that “miracles occur,” in the form of these “tricks of radiance.” Maybe they are tricks, or maybe they are due to the “luck” that she hopes will help her “patch together” a sort of happiness during this season that sometimes comes with a loneliness or bleakness. Despite the lack of color and sometimes of life that winter (and the long second semester) presents, remember that from every branch, the “rare, random descent” of something capable of moving us, enlightening us, or simply calming us, awaits.