Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Not Quite a Poem

 South Carolina Fall

It is not quite a poem though it would be had it a master worthy of its impulse. It is but at the hand of an apprentice a bit of prose yet with a lilt which would transcend its mundane form and become a goodly song, born of a memory of Grandma Peters’ declaration that the fall was “the thin time” when a body like Enoch might just walk from this world into the next.

Who Will Hear?

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