on summer afternoons like this one, between hours of indulgence and languor, something bursts into bloom inside my head.
you made it happen.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
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'I will look at cliffs and clouds
With quiet eyes,
Watch the wind bow down the grass,
And the grass rise.
And when lights begin to show,
Up from the town,
I will mark which must be mine,
And then start down...'
With quiet eyes,
Watch the wind bow down the grass,
And the grass rise.
And when lights begin to show,
Up from the town,
I will mark which must be mine,
And then start down...'
