Sometimes I can mistake a whole season for the way the sun skims the surface of some melting ice patch; the way I squint in wintertime, is so much the same as the squinting in the spring. We practice all winter for the final thaw, and then stop writing poetry when you're around when the sun is around or when there is nothing left to say about you finally -e. _______________________________________________ Five7Five mailing list [EMAIL PROTECTED] http://www.pairlist.net/mailman/listinfo/five7five
