new old kid on the blog,
with an occasional
old or new poem written off
the old writer's block
They're busy singing and listening.This poem radiates the chequered summer forest light of an eternal now. That soon enough will become the autumnal shell of an unremembered then. Esteemed you are by every humanAs the summer's sweet-voiced prophetThe Muses love you, and Apollo too...(The Anacreontic odal chorus singing the praises of Vassilis... er, of the Cicada)
Ah, Vassilis,the verses (like the man) seem refreshed from an Ionian holiday. Three days seemed an aeon. Welcome home, Odysseus...
Friends—I thank you for these two welcoming notes and feel honored that you should place me in such illustrious company—that ubiquitous summer thrummer drumming his ephemeral life away.