I enjoy reading other blogs, and I happened across this poem. It really is very good.
What was the time in OttawaWhen that boy ran full peltTowards a delapidated pier upon An icy lake to make his shapeWhere conifers colludedAnd memory occluded This day, it once occurred.Plenty (or was it a few) anglersIn lumberjack furs Dangling their linesIn holes through snowAs they blow in their hands And distances blurBetween water and […]
Lake Of The Woods
It sure is.
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