A post-script to my last blog post: I see all the colors around me and know I will never again paint as I have before.
An Opening in the Vertical World by Roger Greenwald Moving ... this and that to unpack and put away, and then those added things brought home from summer yard sales and more. I looked everywhere for this second poem (below) to add to my earlier post. I believed I had torn it from a New Yorker and placed it in my "Save" pile. When I started writing the noted post, I could not find it. I even returned not once but twice to the recycle bin on a hunt for it. Why? I felt such a deep connection to the author's words. Then, today, after piecing together a bookcase and pulling books out from under furniture where they were temporarily stored, I saw the book of poems I had walked home with the other night after opening the window-paned Free Library Book box in which it had been placed and adding it to my carry-all basket. I am such a lover of the written word that I kissed its cover when I re-found it today. Its title is An Opening in the Vertical World by the poet Roger Gree...
