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October 4, 2005
TT: In lieu of blogging
If I grow bitterly,Like a gnarled and stunted tree,
Bearing harshly of my youth
Puckered fruit that sears the mouth;
If I make of my drawn boughs
An inhospitable house,
Out of which I never pry
Towards the water and the sky,
Under which I stand and hide
And hear the day go by outside;
It is that a wind too strong
Bent my back when I was young,
It is that I fear the rain
Lest it blister me again.
Edna St. Vincent Millay, "Scrub"
Posted October 4, 2005 12:03 PM
