Saturday, October 4, 2014

Fall away


Your mother’s thimble; that cedar smell; and your mind,
on the eye, of the needle, as you sigh, in the sweet, by and by.



6 comments:

Jan/JFM said...

Oh, William...I love what I see when I read this...wonderful~

William Michaelian said...

Thank you, Jan....

Jonathan Chant said...

Gorgeous. I love the smell of cedar.

Feeling wintery here this evening. Went for a bike ride this afternoon and had to cut it short.

No lights and the dark came down rapidly.

William Michaelian said...

Peddling into that time when that gray area between our ears brings bright stars to mind. Thanks, Jonathan.

Jonathan Chant said...

That response is a poem in itself. Beautiful, William. Cycling is just like that, wobbling along the lanes where, this afternoon, I met a beautiful fox.

William Michaelian said...

It’s the wobble leads them out. Peddling is one thing, of course, but pedaling, which is what I meant to write, is another....