I am a Kentucky mountain girl far from home, perhaps far from the girl years. Still, my heart longs to return to the top of Low Gap mountain and peer off into the distance; to see the hills rolling and tumbling out before me, and the wind ruffling the trees' leaves, causing them to ripple like waves in some immense pond.
Monday, September 11, 2006
Poetry
XLVI
A death-blow is a life-blow to some Who, till they died, did not alive become; Who, had they lived, had died, but when They died, vitality begun.
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