I love Ithaca. Partly because there is no end of creative, interesting, and talented people. But I don't just love the people who pass through. I actually love place itself. Here is a poem that captures both sides of my affection: a poem about Ithaca, written by one of the many creative students who hangs around Chesterton House happenings.

Praise God, little tree outside the Women’s Community Building. Are you a chinaberry tree? No. Praise God, whatever you are, in the bounty of your tiny red fruits.

Praise God, men and women dressed in brown, carrying your lives on your backs. Praise God, street-side café with your goggle-eyed Chihuahua sign. Praise God, scrap metal horse. Praise God, basement shop full of silky foreign scarves.