I’m at the age when small things occupy me…

I picture wicker chairs
In summer, a garden party
For Trotsky, a gramophone
In the weeds…playing
That song again
A chorus
For the workers
Who finally
Have enough to eat

Author: stevekuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University View all posts by stevekuusisto