Past the Stile of Stars (Elegy for Mary Oliver)
Midsummer afternoon – airy aisles weave and thread through the plum trees. Pen in hand, I walk the lawn through an errant sprinkler, the blue sky so vacan...
Midsummer afternoon – airy aisles weave and thread through the plum trees. Pen in hand, I walk the lawn through an errant sprinkler, the blue sky so vacan...