The Poetry Kit |
| Ken Pobo | |||
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GLASS AND OAK From the road the store looks ramshackle. What could be in there? Only joy. Bliss. Dark amber light. My grandmother, dead fifteen years, waves from the rim of a blue Fenton plate. And that ruby pitcher with six tall glasses! We box up beauty in the back seat for tomorrow's 300-mile trip home, leave the store, go for a walk in Ohiopyle State Park- oaks drop glass leaves, yet not one breaks. |
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