new old kid on the blog,
with an occasional
old or new poem written off
the old writer's block
Know what you mean about that gargantuan crow... no wonder the cypress is blighted. Reflects a beautifully graceful acceptance of inevitable diminution, without bitterness.
Excellent poem, thank you.
We walked past that blighted cypress again this morning, no ancient crow on it and that peaceful country road had been “improved” in less than a day, making us feel even smaller. Contrary to their name, bulldozers never seem to sleep, “progress” never goes away. Thanks to you both.
Well, let's amend that to a variably graceful acceptance of inevitable defeat and loss, with the cup of bitterness necessarily at least half-full...?
I have no choice but to drink to that--here's mud in our eyes.