Several years ago, I read a poem with one memorable image -- fall trees blazing like matchsticks, flaming upwards rather than down.I have no idea where I read the poem or who wrote it or what its title is. I have only this bit of memory.
But the image lives: I see flaming trees in fall and winter and feel the poem in my bones. How could I not when, making tea, I glimpse a poem blazing beyond the kitchen window?
1 comment:
Robley, although I don't always respond, I am so grateful for the beauty that you share with us. These are the kind of posts that instantly brighten my day. Thank you for bringing us into your beautiful world.
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