Still here, my friend, not much to tell.
Winter came, wearied, went.
Spring—hurried skies, or sun or rain.
Hot summer days, hot sleepless nights.
Fall was fresher, raked what fell.
Another year. Mostly well.
Published in: “3201 e’s” 2018 as “Not much to tell”
One Reply to “Postcard”
B.C. tweeted “[Postcard] evokes such a strong sense of longing but also loyalty. “Winter came, wearied, went” is a great line — simple but effective.