I Wouldn’t Trade It
Tall geeky-girl brunette whose lungs don’t work well,
Refuses to see the end of the road
Southern accent trills Edna St. Vincent Millay,
Shoots coffee out her nose with Billy Collins,
Haunted by Greek mythology, Lonesome Dove,
Prince of Tides.
Not just literature and poetry saturate my heart and soul —
Anything to do with art, music, and my Nature mother
Real life too, my yen for chocolates and Riesling wine
Timeless hours with kin and friends and sanctified solitude
Sweet incense of lavender wands
Perky daffodils boldly yellow,
While on a table sits Quan Yin
Contented with crucifixes and candles,
My floured hands punching down sourdough bread
In another room.
Later, dog and cat invade my bed, which will leave me
Clinging awkwardly to the edge
But it’s all good.
©2011 Lin Neiswender
Written by lin52
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