Truly As The Sun Can

Assign Yogi Berra To Cape Canaveral; He Could Handle Any Missile.

The Heart That Gives, Gathers.

Of The Crow-blue Mussel Shells, One Keeps Adjusting The Ash Heaps; Opening And Shutting Itself Like An Injured Fan.

The Sea Is A Collector, Quick To Return A Rapacious Look.

In A Poem The Words Should Be As Pleasing To The Ear As The Meaning Is To The Mind.