Friday, 17. August 2007
Evening Poem
Between a day of work and a night
which will be filled with work,
I pass through the valley in which
the sun, aslant through the cypresses, is cooling its fingers in the river, and every hill has become more vivid in its own long shadows.
I take these minutes with their sudden arc of geese flying across the highway as a sacrament for the heart to be.
My Poems
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