This morning, I sent my best friend Annie Finch’s poem Moon for Our Daughters. The middle stanza of the poem reads: “These are our bodies’ own voices, / Powers of each of our bodies, / Threading, unbroken, begetting.” She sent back, “Overnight all my plants wilted at my desk, and I walked to my office in the pouring rain.” Outside my window, the rain came down too.
by Rebecca Valley
I wanted to write a short editor’s note before the launch of our first Droplet review, a series which seeks to highlight quality young adult and children’s literature from under-represented authors. Specifically, I wanted to talk about why I am choosing to write critically about YA, and the role YA plays in the literary world. Continue reading