Walk the rails under a high blue sky. Find the sag in the leaning fence, and step--carefully--over rusted wire. Follow a peninsula of blond grasses through a lake of loam, and come, at last, to the timber's edge where gray branches trace the sky and rose hips curl near purple canes.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Riches
Thanks for familiar handwriting on happy notes, for warm food on bright plastic plates, for kindred company and coffee shops and Earl Gray tea with lots of cream. Thanks for poetry-- especially the unexpected volume I bought for a dollar sixty-nine.
<3
ReplyDeleteMy mom LOVES Earl Gray!
It's a great invention! Wish we could all have tea party . . .
ReplyDeleteIt's been nearly five years, but do you remember which book?
ReplyDeleteI think it was a little volume of Wordsworth's poems for sale at the library.
ReplyDelete