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Poetry
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| A Ripple, In Passing | |
| By andybyers | ||||
| 06 August 2007 | ||||
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'Written' in an instant in passing a lonely farmhouse on a rural road in southern Ontario one fall evening. I was on my way to visit my parents and taking an alternate route from the superhighways. Driveways treelined, neighbours sparce, plain houses hug the country road embraced by family fields, and garbed in ancient thickets Bright and hopeful, porch lights glow But not for me. Oh, to belong To a warm kitchen with its welcoming smiles, soft background AM-borne, and the presence of others, unseen but felt, awaiting the call to a shared moment... I push on into falling dusk; The orphaned leaves run wild.
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