new old kid on the blog,
with an occasional
old or new poem written off
the old writer's block
But let me jot down what's happening now:clack of the fingered keys, my wrinkled brow,each breath pulled loose from the skein of timeonly to snap back tight like a perfect rhymeinto the seemingly seamless cloth of it all,like the winter’s night sky when I was small,when I’d gaze up and puff the steam of methrough the limbs of the paper birch tree,touching stars with each uncurling wisp—like this, like this, like this, like this, like this.*[My apologies for the poor imitation. I just couldn't resist a duet.]
Earnestly now, no need to apologize when you improve on something!
I always assume there will be no tomorrow, and write for and of a world that ended the day before yesterday.Does that mean we're on the same page?
YES! So turn, turn, turn......
Wonderful reflections on the way we look forward and back but find it so had to stand still.
Thank you, Elisabeth, for saying so!