Nova Scotia 2 Passing Through

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Friends return  every year Vermont

Martha’s Vineyard, even Tuscany, to see family

to see friends.  I prefer

somewhere else,  to a place I do not  know.

Nova Scotia boat took forever. An engine missing.

Strangers cross together.

Fog,   Late night ride passed dark

wooden houses 12 miles to a woman

renting rooms on a lake. She wears  unexpected

gold earrings.  Her breakfast tiny wild blueberries,

eggs with yolks a yellow we’ve never seen.

Now a road with  lucky number 103

through villages and towns, through lives

we imagine, passing through.

 

Esther Cohen
Let me tell you why I'm here, and why I hope you'll join me. I am here to poem, to play with words, to tell stories when I can, and to ask you for yours. Words are what I love, how I see, and what I say. Words are how I know my life, and how I find my friends. I'm here to ask you to join me. Right here. To send me your stories, and your poems. And to read mine when you can.

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