Uncle Vanya was marvelous. Better than best.
Lots of walking.
What I Saw As We Were Passing
A red farmhouse;
A red that has stuck
Despite unending
Attacks on its integrity.
A red farmhouse
Surrounded by dead crops
Made golden by the
End of the sun's shift.
A storm takes its
Place in the night sky--
Dark blue, ominous,
Promising. Around the farmhouse
It's nothing forever.
Nothing and nothing and
On and on and on.
The red and nothing
Will never yield.
Poetry on blogs is lame.
That's not really a poem.
Line breaks emphasized my thoughts better.
kmc
Well I think it's lovely. So there.
ReplyDeleteVery Wm. Carlos Williams
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