Archives for the month of: April, 2017

Always the broken glass
The chipped glass, the imperfect one
This is the one I pick
I had grown tired of drinking whiskey from metal field cups
I treated myself to crystal, four solid glasses, simple in design but reminding me of our old houses.
Now one is chipped.
This is the one I use always
Can’t give it to guests
Can’t bear to throw it out
I let it live another day.

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Little purple fleurs –
Dotted low across the lawn ~
Survive my mowing. 


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