 |
| cliick to expand |
It takes but one summer day to fetch the summer in, the poet said, and so it is in Turkeyfoot. She walks through the theaters of evening from ridge to ridge, and in her wake the lilacs bloom, the woods fills in, mosses launch their spoors, wild apple trees cast their white petals onto the dark ground, and from out of the newly formed crowns, with the violets closed for the night, the moon rises yellow and round. The owls and frogs sound in. You hear the rush of your being, and you thrill at the hum of living.
