If the act of beginning bent the knee, salt would not care to know where its taste began; the way pine digs in the
Forgive me, she happened to look & think & sound— rather like you, especially the youthful Amy with beret & pearls in London. Her
Crows zig past a scold of clouds. Winds come and go in frantic bursts. Trees hasten toward the ground, then pleat the sky. All