Not having the local newspaper (which we stopped getting because it wasn't worth the bother of recycling) allows the breakfasting mind to wander. Here's my poem for the day.
So much depends
upon
a New York
Times review
in black and
white
and read all
over
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2 comments:
I like your poem a lot, Elaine.
By the way, what did you do with the plums?
They were delicious.
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