Saturday, August 6, 2011

It should have been a picture

I carried a bag in from the garden today. It was filled with herbs and tomatoes and okra. I grew these. As I walked toward the house with my harvest, I felt the bag's weight and noticed it's distance from the ground. It turned into you, reaching up and taking my hand. We walked under the dried up apple trees, whose fruit has already fallen. When I reached the basement door I stopped to wipe away a few tears. The bag had changed back into itself. Your little surprise visits take my breath away.

Night, night Frost
Mama loves you

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