Saturday, October 26, 2019

Grains of all kinds

those we eat & those from whom we build a bench.  We sit and are given the opportunity to marvel at the simple, the organic.  Who can explain the physics of why a simple wood grain can spark memories of family or can be the catalyst for the title of a poem?

1 comment:

  1. Some sublime accretion of the obstinate--
    first one channel is the street
    the next a whirling crinoline--
    I can't decide which means more to me.