The wind did not blow the storyteller from the face of the earth ...

I'm reading Isaac Bashevis Singer - 

Sometimes I'm in New York - 

There are frost flowers on the windows of my apartment - 

Steam sings in the radiators - 

I eat a bagel, remembering the names of lost relatives - 

Other times, I'm listening to gossip under a vast sky - 

The small town is near the border - 

In my pockets are groschen and zlotys - 

I read the stories in a room warmed by a kindly sun - 

I rejoice that the wind did not blow the storyteller from the face of the earth - 

17.09

Tuesday 2 May 2017

The Old School House

East Stoke 

Dorset