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| Poet's Blend |
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| I have eaten the Eucharist in a three leaf clover even drank my merlot cold. In Woods Hole I walked the battery arm of salvation to the place where a stone bench is there for one to sit in silent mediation. Baby I can paint your condo Cape Cod Gray even re-shingle your roof but it is you alone who must learn how to pray when the North wind whips through your tattered coat and the buoys - they bounce and wink with each passing wave as if to say, "It's a hell of a season ain't it." And then you realize, it's just that, a season. |
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