in knowing that some things
remain the same
Category: small town life
spill
summer in your house
the morning light poured in
spilling on the chenille
like warm milk
dishes clattering in the kitchen
as you made breakfast
in her house
“Vague memories hang about the mind like cobwebs”
~ George Eliot
drive in
summer nights
we’d pile in the back of dad’s station wagon
in our pajamas
equipped with blankets, pillows and paper bags full of junk food
and fall asleep halfway through the feature
of a barnacle to a ledge
“My attachment to the state is that of a barnacle to a ledge, the pull of the moon to the earth. Maine, because of its singular and profound beauty, is a place of worship without walls. I love it so.”
~ May Davidson
Licht Years 