waiting
stretches the bond
between minutes
bowstring taut
and sharp
it sharpens
the tongue
and the wit
unlucky child
who makes me
wait.
ht
Saturday, January 23, 2010
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sweet, quiet summer days basking in ridgeline sun... bitter cold afternoons with pruned hands in clay...mornings with vivaldi and tea... cranky diatribes on the irritation of the moment...welcome to my world. welcome to future 26.
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