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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4243 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Free gilboa it had been a dry season until tonight, and now the rain falls with the frustration of love lost by age. sitting, shivering under an old wooden shelter waiting for a hitch is the furthest thing from mind when i awaken on gray mornings, the lilt of a steady shower on the roof above, and shift in my bed with two hours to the alarm. but the wind is fierce and the road is empty and the assumptions of walt whitman laugh through my ear. my bed now is nothing more than a soaked knapsack, the thundering storm hardly a lilt, and yet i've never been more content. and yet i've never been more content. |
