Hoar frost on the maples this morning
sky to the east peach, promising
missing sunshine. The hill where
my grandfathers lie is still cool
blue. How does this earth carry my weight?
My bones are heavy with home.
Hoar frost on the maples this morning
sky to the east peach, promising
missing sunshine. The hill where
my grandfathers lie is still cool
blue. How does this earth carry my weight?
My bones are heavy with home.