Is There a Drama Award for This?
In the poem it is a summer night. I am alone. I am walking through a field. I am trying to remember something.
What am I trying to remember?
* * *
It isn't summer, of course. It's December in Michigan, though there was a thaw in the air when I took the dogs out. And so, the first lines of "February Morning" by Laurie Sheck from The Willow Grove (Alfred A. Knopf, 1996):
Low fog. Snow melt. Pines. Then the things of this world brightening,