Wednesday, March 02, 2011

Back to the forest for split pea soup and a bread crust a crust some sparse butter from a butterfly bush last summer we had no thought of the winter calamity but here it is the sorrowful hand signals a darning egg we frolicked in our flouncy trousers the beetle queen adorned her many children with spun sugar all colors I liked the purple ones cavort you may=nonesuch=honeysuckle birds in their feathered bower.


Deb said...
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Deb said...

More and more and more... like continuously to edges, some soft some edgier some hidden in the bed sheets. I often run to read your words like kids to the ice cream truck on summer days.