Posted by: cronelogical | January 15, 2008


As the crone sat dreaming beside the summer sea

Her dreams were all of long ago
the tiny country store, grain elevators, the old gas pump, the post box
where Jenny Wren lived in summer.
The Postmaster, whose sign said “Bird in Residence, do not disturb.”
Inside the warm stove where local farmers came to gather mail, tell stories
and fill the air with pipe smoke
while the child hidden behind the counter stored their tales. Fran

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