Sunday, April 26, 2015

April 26

The drylands don’t attract me;
I grew up under dark evergreens
and over water—sheets of it,
spreading like silver foil to the
horizon. From the air it looked
solid and even when my father
put his small plane down
on it, the floats kept us from
disappearing under the shining
mantle. Flat, like sand, but not
empty, not that kind of place
where souls and thirsts are exposed.

1 comment:

  1. How I miss Janet...
    but I'll see her again soon.
    Coming to Seventh-Heaven, dear?
    Follow us Upstairs:
    ♡ ♡
    Love you.
    Cya soon.