For Debbie, who married me–a poem, for her birthday
Home When we sat on the wooden bench in the eveningwith the scent of lavender pushing out over the strait,the pages of salt water turning at our feet,and I said...
Home When we sat on the wooden bench in the eveningwith the scent of lavender pushing out over the strait,the pages of salt water turning at our feet,and I said...
You’re a reasonably good father. Your colossal mistakes are distant, the smaller ones have thinned out, and for sanity, you’ve been able to forgive ...