In my mailbox
On a day of rain and wind,
Post cards from Annie
They tell me where she's been
This one's postmarked August,
It's from Niagra Falls
She says she won’t be coming back at all
She was always fragile
A spirit dressed in skin
I noticed she didn't have much stuff
the day I moved her in.
Like water to a thirsty man
I drank full from her grace
Then one day she was gone
She left without a trace
Like sunshine spreading light
in my most special places
She unbuttoned my shirt,
loosened up my laces
And if I tried to tell her
what she meant to me
A finger drawn across my lips
the only sign I'd see.
Far away in different light
she brightens up a room
A broken soul rebounds from hell,
and thinks he'll be better soon
Annie’s there a moment,
a month or two at most
Then another post card's mailed
from a few miles down the coast
I wrote earlier of last weekend at Serendipity, (Dale's farm in SC) and the enjoyable time that was had by all. This good time were hosted by Dale's new housesitters. I struck an especially clear connection with the August, the husband of the husband and wife team. We had a very interesting exchange concerning the arrival of extra terrestials. We both agreed that we would really love to be alive when they finally appreared! How it would be the end of civilization as we know it. And the beginning of a new civilization.