new old kid on the blog,
with an occasional
old or new poem written off
the old writer's block
This exquisite miniature wanted the enclosing silence in which it so delicately floats to go on forever...But somebody had to go and spoil things.Couldn't go another night with it -- of course I ought to say her -- staring at me from the corner, and not say a word.
Her son--hanging on a thread all day waiting for the silence to be broken--is eternally grateful.