Pleasantville, New Jersey, 1955 – Ellen Bass I’d never seen a rainbow or picked a tomato off the vine. Never walked in an orchard or a forest. The only tree I knew grew in the square of dirt hacked out of the asphalt, the mulberry my father was killing slowly, pounding copper nails into its … Continue reading Andes Mint #21: Poem of the Week, by Ellen Bass
Your friend Absalom vows Haiku Friday! Feeling lazy, so do you. Did you manage to write your chapters? Yes. Good girl. Now you can go hike. Tromp up the mountain, tromp back down. Same mountain, same tromp. Never gets old. Stay back, rocks. Don’t roar down just as I’m climbing up. I don’t want to … Continue reading Andes Mint #20: Haiku Friday!
Get up at 4:00 a.m., make and drink a cup of strong coffee, get dressed, wheel your roller bag out the dark path to the dark car, head to the airport, get on the first of two small planes that land you in the White Plains airport at noon. Rent a car. Tap in the … Continue reading Andes Mint #19: Kingsley