Jewels I took away from Patricia Joan Jones' poem Pilgrimage to Sperryville.
'another sky bleeds the
memory of day,
wrings out each cloud like a rag.'
'Michelangelo clouds,
angel-spun'
'And then there is the sky after it
has bled the innocence of
morning'
'others come
to drink the mountain's
heart like sassafras tea, perhaps
absorb its wisdom and
its wild strength'
'I take
dictation from rivers and
liquid mountains.'
'clocks that never take a breath
and glass mazes that don't know
how to pray
like the mountains do.'
'the way a distant valley can
diffuse you with its bottomless blue,'