Wednesday, February 14, 2007
snow in place
the path i tready is full of snow
I need a shoval everywhere i go.
the wind is blowing in my face
the cold is in my place
my hands numb to paint
the masterpiece has to wait!
Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched.