Friend, let us touch each other with warm words. <br />Deep in the thicket, hear the evening birds <br />Talk of old sunsets quite content to be, <br />No more than what the naked eye can see. <br /> <br />I think our letters fight their way through air, <br />Over patched roofs that seem to gladly bear, <br />That little light that winter has to give. <br />However sparingly, the feelings live, <br /> <br />To travel safely through prevailing space, <br />Making their statement with a kind of grace, <br />That interlocks the music of landscape, <br />Within the magic of its own escape.<br /><br />Sandra Fowler<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/appalachian-blue/
