vintage
Vintage poetry stands the test of time; collections and anthologies of classic poems and enduring verses from eras past.
Scraps
My grandfather was a woodworker. I grew up in his old house with its pine-paneled walls, warped oak floors, surrounded by towering, twisted trees. My childhood was permeated with the scent of forest. We lived in sunny Orange County. Our home sat low and dark like a shadow in the bright, clean suburb. The carport had piles of lumber, two by fours, and mounds of scrap, which my grandfather used to repair, refinish, and restore.
By Claire Ibarra4 years ago in Poets
