Foggy Morning Run
Myers, Joan Rohr
Joan Rohr Myers Foggy Morning Run The fog is white spilling trees and all sorts of houses before me. Strangers almost these bungalows settling like opals, like old women's bodies vaguely...
...Leaves fall like lace to their feet, like something they needed but now rise above...
...Strangers almost these bungalows settling like opals, like old women's bodies vaguely defined under layers of eotton they are trying to slip off but still in the haze "f dresses and stockings they are slow to step into the sun...
...Commonweal: 428...
Vol. 112 • August 1985 • No. 14
