riding the bus, look up and read a poem, and my eyes fill with tears, for what is forever lost...
"What does it mean, anyway, to know someone?
There's talk and touch, yes;
There's light on the brightness of hair
and a catch of breath close by in the night.
But there's this knowing too: the music of his chosen creek,
the yellow sheen of wood he worked with his hands."
poem by Judith Barrington -
an excerpt from At Soapstone Creek,
Horses and the Human Soul, 2004
photo by our plucky heroine