Sunday, October 24, 2010
P.S.
An apple pie is in the oven; my mother’s wind chime is alive in our first fall storm; the maples are one step closer to the door. These are the gifts of the day I wear. I look now at my hands: they too are strangers; they too are friends.
10.24.2010 #3
10.24.2010 #2 (used books)
10.24.2010 #1 (used books)
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7 comments:
"the maples are one step closer to the door"
I love this.
Thanks, Jean. If I may be forgiven for saying so, I do too. But it means a lot more coming from you.
There is a autumn calm here. I sink into a deep chair by the woodstove as i read this.
Thank you William.
~robert
The smell of anything baking says "home" to me, but apple pie says "autumn." October gives us such golden days...
And thank you, Robert, for helping me imagine you in such a peaceful setting.
That it does, Gabriella, and the apples were local, from an orchard not far east of where we live.
I smell your day much beyond the nose.
xo
erin
Erin, your words are heaven scent.
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