my white room


i never saw a moor—
i never saw the sea—
yet know i how the heather looks
and what a billow be.

e.d.



9/9/12


white white birch in
prague has no lines
no casting a shadow

and days later in the airport
finding chalk marks from
its trunk on my sleeves















and tori amos comes
as fall does, 











4 comments:

thank you
for taking time
and leaving a word,
i will reply right here.

warmly,
olga.




olga