262: Driving to Town Late to Mail a Letter
“Driving to Town Late to Mail a Letter”
Robert Bly
It is a cold and snowy night. The main street is deserted.
The only things moving are swirls of snow.
As I lift the mailbox door, I feel its cold iron.
There is a privacy I love in this snowy night.
Driving around, I will waste more time.
As always, if you would like to suggest poems, you are welcome to email them to me (exceptindreams ATgmailDOTcom). Those of you that have sent poems, thank you very much.
Robert Bly
It is a cold and snowy night. The main street is deserted.
The only things moving are swirls of snow.
As I lift the mailbox door, I feel its cold iron.
There is a privacy I love in this snowy night.
Driving around, I will waste more time.
As always, if you would like to suggest poems, you are welcome to email them to me (exceptindreams ATgmailDOTcom). Those of you that have sent poems, thank you very much.