After W.S. Merwin

At times now from some margin of the day
I can smell apples cooking in a pan,
for a moment cinnamon or maybe only
the memory of cinnamon until all of it
blows away and ...  [+]

My nephew flies a drone
over my grandparents' empty house,
over the orchard and empty barn, ...  [+]

After W.S. Merwin

So gradual in those summers was the going
it seemed the apples would always be
almost ripening, the pasture always
thick with clover. Days were green
with snap peas ...  [+]

We internalize the rhythm of travel early. My first road trip was short, and I have no memory of it – a couple of hours in a cardboard box on the back seat of a Ford. No doubt it had some influence on ...  [+]