On my hand I smell woodsmoke
\nDon’t know where it came from.
\nThe evening is silent, the river still
\nThe shore opposite is a dark silhouette
\nBehind other silhouettes.<\/p>\n
On my other hand I smell strawberries
\nFrom supper, still there even though
\nI have washed twice.
\nThe silence is canvas-bestowing:
\nI am Lismer viewing dusk
\nFor the first and millionth time.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
On my hand I smell woodsmoke Don’t know where it came from. The evening is silent, the river still The shore opposite is a dark silhouette Behind other silhouettes. On my other hand I smell strawberries From supper, still there … Continue reading