Saturday, December 22, 2007

Gary LeBel: MASON JAR

Leaving a trail of wet fields, mists moved snail-like through the colored leaves of this Mississippi morning.

All day long as we drive home from field work, I gather up the grasshoppers of passing landscapes into the Mason jar of my mind. When we stop for gas or sandwiches, I shake the jar a little, and let them all go.


For a hundred miles now
his silence
and mine,
no need to people them
with fictions.


by Gary LeBel
Cumming, Georgia

No comments:

Post a Comment