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.
Sunday, June 28, 2015
Evening, June 28
Tonight I remember -- I am so blessed by words to speak, a way to be heard, and loving souls who listen. What richness!
<3
ReplyDelete<3
Delete