tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-855012732105426889.post3527144607011842559..comments2024-03-06T13:33:02.824-08:00Comments on poetry bites: Chicken soup. When we cook chicken soup, are we writing a poem for healing?Kit Kennedyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04680775609980451495noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-855012732105426889.post-51963955974309969162012-09-18T09:09:45.195-07:002012-09-18T09:09:45.195-07:00Mt's p 29
Sitting in urbane rows, the altitud...Mt's p 29<br /><br />Sitting in urbane rows, the altitude<br />a wren in the buckweed, not to be missed<br /><br />She turns up the clavichord, to make it through<br />the day. And in the active nave, her last wishes flow<br /><br />The silly plans which got to be so wooden<br />and the chicken soup in CincinnatiSusan E. Gangelhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11089529481292723290noreply@blogger.com