Friday, March 12, 2010

786. AT PRINCETON

AT PRINCETON
I'm walking the genteel, tin-sleeved Princeton
streets in an early morning light with a wetness
falling down; not a rain, for it's ever so slight.
You may call it what you wish if you care. The
raucous choir of cemetery birds behind me sings.
I'm not reaching for anything special, nor grabbing
for any particular thing : my heart is happy enough.
Perhaps if I had a voice, I too would sing.

No comments: