new old kid on the blog,
with an occasional
old or new poem written off
the old writer's block
from hereI can smell the lemon treesand the coming rain .... I like it bestwhen it drums on my roof .... when Iin my seventy-third year think of herin a wet dress running up to the square( "approaching / approach" is a nice word .... a "gate" that swings my mindin-and-out comings-and-goings ?
Ilike that evocative image of herapproaching wetto the skin