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