Friday, January 7, 2011

Zephyr

I sat down to write a poem
about Mae Marsh
and her name took my mind
to a warm, soft, natural place,
sun-dappled and fresh
with the breezes of spring;

then I realized
that Mae herself
was all of that,
her gaze, her manner
as clear and gentle
as the balmiest day -
Spring itself.





















Mae Marsh

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