I tilt recklessly
through the day, buffered by your
tender forgivings.
A vague notion sifts through:
would this be called providence?
I tilt recklessly
through the day, buffered by your
tender forgivings.
A vague notion sifts through:
would this be called providence?
2 responses to “A notion”
A potent notion.
Wish I has a witty reply. This poem feels so Dickinson to me — should have put a bee in it. Thanks for reading my poems!