Waiting for Summer to End
I fill my rucksack with pine cones & acorns, stuff closets with branches & boughs— sap so sticky, so golden under the sun— collect stacks o’ grass in pillow cases— tickling my nose with sweet dirt-filled fragrance. They try to stop me. They say I’m crazy. What’s wrong with crazies? What, are they Nazis? ‘Cause […]
