ARRIVING AGAIN AND AGAIN WITHOUT NOTICING
Linda Gregg

I remember all the different kinds of years.
Angry, or brokenhearted, or afraid.
I remember feeling like that
walking up the mountain along the dirt path
to my broken house on the island.
And long years of waiting in Massachusetts.
The winter walking and hot summer walking.
I finally fell in love with all of it;
dirt, night, rock and far views.
It’s strange that my heart is as full
now as my desire was then.

[on page 32 of The New Yorker while aboard an Amtrak train]

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