Lately, I’ve been dreaming of far off places again. Ted know this. As my head hits the pillow, I mumble fanciful wishes for plane tickets and foreign sublets and new horizons, unfamiliar sights and smells and tastes…
The siren’s song is everywhere.
I load little Lucie into her car seat, and we set out on the daily circuit around the city.
We have a new CD of poetry read aloud by Julie Andrews; her melodic voice fills the air as we drive (a pleasant jump from jazz radio) and briefly, ever so briefly, the poem Cargoes sweeps me away: Continue Reading…