Words enchant the page and you take them with you. Words linger. I can’t do yoga, draw, crochet, or right with my hand. “I’ve got my books, and my poetry to protect me. I am shielded in my armor.” Lyrics from my favorite Simon & Garfunkel song I sing to myself when I’m alone, my personal books to console me gather around. Poetry is the only thing I have, and sometimes I hear a Robert Frost line pop up at the right time.
“Why, this is Hell, nor am I out of it.”
“New Hampshire offered the nearest boundary to escape across.”
“It’s so long since I picked I almost forget how we used to pick berries.”