After work, through the evening until the TV was but a ﬂicker in the night window, Daddy would line them up across the table.
Summer brags outside the tall windows Inside, the air chatters winter Our workshop assignment: Describe something lost Into this season of sun and longest days I write about tomatoes Planting them in my journal of absences Alongside whippoorwill and gypsy breeze
The poet’s house was a trip I could not refuse. I knew you only through words, anxious to hear your lyrical wisdom about meter and muse the heart of a simple line, but something more humble surfaced the poetic journey. Subscribe to read the full text.