How can you say the world is not for me?
When the house finch
does its red, silly mating dance,
with the brown female’s rapt attention,
right out side my window
When this morning the sun shines
in its sacred, diffuse way
through a tumble of cloud
When hundreds work their 9-5 magic
making these bus doors
that open just now for me
When the earth pivots
just the right distance from the sun
the air like a cradle the trees provide
How can you say the world is not for me?
When your eyes look at me crystal blue
and the drops from your rain-caught lashes
glisten
like mirrors
Here we are...
...a group of Baby Boomers of sundry religious,
political and cultural orientations, who have been
meeting at the Voorheesville Public Library since 1991
to read and discuss each other's poems.
We include old fathers and young grandmothers,
artists and musicians, and run-of-the-mill eccentrics.
Writers are welcome to stop in and stay if they like us.
political and cultural orientations, who have been
meeting at the Voorheesville Public Library since 1991
to read and discuss each other's poems.
We include old fathers and young grandmothers,
artists and musicians, and run-of-the-mill eccentrics.
Writers are welcome to stop in and stay if they like us.
Some of Us
Monday, October 29, 2007
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