spring
I remember
wishing on a robin with her.
Our boots scraping gravel.
The sun bright on the dismantled bucket
Of our father’s catapillar.
we wished for ketchup chips.
Monday, April 11, 2005
Previous Posts
- reading list
- Get behind the Mule
- out like a lamb
- spring sun
- a little less wisdom
- thursday
- poetry
- brown envelopes
- can't stay away
- Happy St. Patrick's Day
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