happy birthday mother of the new day.A Poem by h d e rushinfor rosa parks 100 years.
It's hot. Alabama hot. No need to explain. You've worked all day and your kidney, the bean shape, wants rest. Something simple and easy, to ride and look out the window at houses and white fences and steeples of churches you cant attend. What do you call the science that deals with forces related to the motion of sweaty feet? Or a kerchief, or a person who works with little bits of cut glass and plaster, where first, without sympathy, they draw a straight line? I like it when the mind wanders off and you dream of distances or the place where the bus curves past a little creek. Or a law requiring dogs to be unrestrained at your sight? Or the movement of a large ship underway? Or the feeling of excitement when a body swings from left to right? What do you call rock that is solid enough or continuous enough to form ledges? Your call it decisive, then you call it by its faithful name. You call it sacrifice. © 2013 h d e rushinReviews
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2 Reviews Added on February 4, 2013 Last Updated on February 28, 2013 Author
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