Because it’s a long way home back to the place where we started.
Perhaps where it begins and ends should be as a meal
Perhaps the world is simply a meal punctuated by other events
The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what, we must eat to live.
The gifts of earth are brought and prepared, set on the table. So it has been since creation, and it will go on.
Perhaps Poetry is as much the soul’s nourishment as Experience
Filed under: Celestial, Poems I Like







