Thursday, September 03, 2009

this is how it felt

(a flurry of palpitations
as cold as sleet
rackets across the marshlands
of my heart
like a wild spring day )
when a few strains of a song I love took me by surprise earlier today.

I probably don't have to tell you who wrote that.
at

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Heirloom

The market on the eastern slope surveys A place in Minnesota that I love: Looks past the barns, past where the tire swing sways, And the far...

  • How is it June?
    It's already mid-June, and here I am in Hudsonville (the library--my oldest, dearest haunt), bereft of full time employment, my life a s...
  • (the fruits of a little wordplay on a quiet afternoon)
    The cranberry red minivan had acquired a shimmy in recent years--a fact that its driver, Abraham, regarded in much the same way he regarded ...
  • (no title)
    Seven years ago, I would have emphatically denied the possibility that a day would come when I would sit at the piano and feel, as I ran up ...