The Linnet's Wings :Take All My Loves, My Love - Page 86
The Linnet´s Wings
Edgeworth tobacco faint as a blown cloud in the air, the way a hobo might know a win-
dowed apple pie from afar. I hear the years of literate good cheer, storied good will, the
pleasantries of expansive noun and excitable verb. I hear his ever-lingering poems, each one
a repeated resonance, a victory of sound and meaning and the magic of words. I hear his
rocking chair giving rhythm to my mind, saying over and over again the words he left with
hard handles on them for my grasping.