sometimes, and other times, not
today i smelled summer on the edge of the wind and the baby's laughter was like light shattering in slow motion. it was the way the trees were bending. they were reaching that way, but why?
and the herring came by the tornado full. when the tide was out, the smell of the eggs in the sun made some of the women hold scarves to their noses. it felt like a southern hemispheric kind of winter.
the girls, and oh the girls. you wouldn't believe...
poem © jamie erin 2011




