It was small wonder, then, that he suddenly flung down his brush on the floor, said 'Bother!' and 'O blow!' and also 'Hang spring-cleaning!' and bolted out of the house without even waiting to put on his coat.
------------ Kenneth Grahame
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Sunday, April 10, 2011
Spring Comes Home
Fog and the sound of water in ditches. A flicker stitching her call on the sky. Spring comes home in the morning like a drunken wife you were afraid was not coming home at all.
It should not be necessary to remark, but probably is, that I have never seen Martha drunk in the thirty-five years we've been together. This is a poem. All that white space on the right is supposed to clue you in, there.
It should not be necessary to remark, but probably is, that I have never seen Martha drunk in the thirty-five years we've been together. This is a poem. All that white space on the right is supposed to clue you in, there.
ReplyDeleteI've been worrying that she would.
ReplyDelete(come home)
ReplyDeleteLike this a lot.
ReplyDeleteWhat Uma said (o)
ReplyDeleteTerrific imagery. As in imagined. ;-)
ReplyDeletei just home she stays home and acts "right" for a while! this pacific NW climate has worn me out! ;)
ReplyDelete