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sharon brogan wrote: > I wake to a bright night, moon resting > on the swell of the mountain. > > Geese pass noisily overhead, barking > like a herd of schnauzers. > > A storm spins past Galveston > another spins out of Washington > > and yet another from Wall Street, > each leaving loss and debris > > in its wake. I listen to love songs > on the radio and try to remember how > > that felt. It's time for the long nightgown, > the flannel sheets. Time to close > > the windows against autumn. The stars > of my generation are dying off. > > Somewhere, someone is bringing in > the crops. Long ago, I helped with that, > > prepared meals for the field hands, > bacon sizzling, the women talking, > > shelling peas, canning peaches. Now, > I lift my food from the shelves. It has > > nothing to do with me. > > > ~ sb > http://www.sbpoet.com > What a remarkable and vivid thing this is! A world gone from sight but not from memory or vision. ken -- Ken Wolman http://bestiaire.typepad.com http://www.petsit.com/content317832.html ------------------- "I have been watching you; you were there, unconcerned perhaps, but with a strange distraught air of someone forever expecting a great misfortune, in sunlight, in a beautiful garden."--Maurice Maeterlinck, Pelleas et Melisande