I cannot tell you now; When the wind's drive and whirl Blow me along no longer, And the wind's a whisper at last - Maybe I'll tell you then some othe… - Carl Sandburg

"Show me the telegrams they sent you, one every day for six days while they were walking six hundred miles on their pigeon toes."
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1. Feet are as good as wings if you have to. Chickamauga. ...
3. In the night sleeping you forget whether you have wings or feet or neither. Chattahoochee. ...
6. Pity me. Far is far. Near is near. and there is no place like home when the yellow roses climb up the ladders and sing in the early summer. Pity me. Wednesday Evening In The Twilight And The Gloaming.
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Well, Wednesday Evening was the only one I noticed making any mention of the yellow roses in her telegram," Hatrack the Horse explained.
Then the old man and the girl sat on the cracker box saying nothing, only listening to the yellow roses all on fire with early summer climbing up th ecrooked ladders, up and down and crossways, some of them leaning out and curving and nearly falling."

Poetry is the opening and closing of a door, leaving those who look through to guess about what is seen during a moment.

There is an eagle in me that wants to soar, and there is a hippopotamus in me that wants to wallow in the mud