Because persimmons make me smile. Because paper & pen make me smile. Besides, when I thought I'd said everything I possibly could about persimmons, a new way to say the old surfaces. The same is true with cooking. Thus, the same is true in poetry. Everything is plural with joy.
H/c
ReplyDeleteAs if summoned by a force outside her force
She wondered on a parallel route
If the existence of seasons was a manmade construct
Devised to excuse the farmer and his wife of menus