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. *** 86