We’ve grown accustomed to not expect much ---
catalogs, bills, third-class stuff. Until the arrival of
early December; curiously we start to remember …
anticipate … see the mail truck … hear the gate.
catalogs, bills, third-class stuff. Until the arrival of
early December; curiously we start to remember …
anticipate … see the mail truck … hear the gate.
Outside, woodfire frosty air, find cold bounty waiting
there. Red envelopes, a box! Old
acquaintances who’ve not forgot. Inside foil-lined envelopes, slit,
news and notes in familiar script. Homemade cards, palpable affection.
there. Red envelopes, a box! Old
acquaintances who’ve not forgot. Inside foil-lined envelopes, slit,
news and notes in familiar script. Homemade cards, palpable affection.
First Class Joy. Renewed connection.
____________________________
“First Class Joy”
Photo © 2008 Chuck Pefley | Verse © 2010 Penny Pefley
