All is well

Leonora’s in the Blue Room, reading Proust,
Rev. Gilead’s annotating his Topography of Wales,
Twemlow’s in the larder, pitting dates for fruit clafoutis,
and Quain is on the driveway, salting snails.

Looking down on all of them. from my writing desk,
I’m glad that all is well in this glad world.


 

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