Wednesday, March 14, 1990

TWENTY YEARS AGO


TWENTY YEARS AGO
       —to William T. Wiley

You made a small watercolor sketch
of my grandmother's house
from the ridge, canted chimney,
red walls against the green valley
and I wanted it for her
but the child riding a red horse
past your house each afternoon,
too shy to knock at the door,
is gone now, like all the rest.
Today it is raining, it could be any day.
Exhile is a sleek river, and this poem,
a small, nagging seasonal thirst.


3/14/90