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.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Confession
You knew? I asked. Oh yes. I wondered how long you would not tell me, and if you would ever let me say "I forgive you."
No comments:
Post a Comment