Wealth
Wealth You can only be rich briefly (wealth moves or dies) and this evening I am rich. Mid-August and the wind kicks up, thunder rolls over the lakes, the first yellow leaves blow by in patterns of foresight. Tom battens hatches while I, the idle rich, do nothing. The world (it moves or dies) sometimes allows this green oasis, this brief imagined stasis in which to weigh the luxury of our accumulated peace, our wealth of years, our love. Storm and stress have their own gravity and, yes, it will rain tonight, but there is nectar in the flower now and now. S. Robbins, from Readings,
Sherry Robbins 