We saw the sun set in the rear view mirror...
by Charles Tomlinson
These days are best when one goes nowhere,
The house a reservoir of quiet change,
The creak of furniture, the window panes
Brushed by the half-rhymes of activities
That do not quite declare what thing it was
Gave rise to them outside.
(the rest of the poem is here)
Are you delighted to be traveling or NOT traveling this week?
What are you against?
What are you for?
The round up this week is at Becky's Book Reviews. (Next Friday it will be here!)