Saturday, September 10, 2011

Tomato

She is sick
She holds the tomato
that I have given her
from the garden.
She brings it to her nose
and smells it.
She rubs the brown
flecks of dust dirt
off until it shines
and hands it back to me

Ah, Sincerely

The Search light defines The Swell of the river And neither a compass That Articulates This feathery Lesson Nor this time for trees Are thin...