Adding a face to her sand angel – in all her ‘sandy glory’
What a gloriously evocative poem this is!
August (from ‘The Months’) – Linda Pastan
Barefoot
and sun-dazed,
I bite into this ripe peach
of a month,gathering
children
into my arms
in all their
sandy
glory,heaping
my table each night
with nothing
but corn and tomatoes.
