Confessions of a Grandma

The Communion of Silence Silence, with sails double reefed, Creeps into shoal water. A hand touches another. Two heads turn. One winks. The other smiles. Silence, with all sails rigged, Beats out of shoal water. A glance points homeward; A hand spins the wheel. Later, the sea, in ungentle waves, Tries to beguile them. Neither notice. Carl Potter ***** It's National Poetry Month, April. For several years now, our small town library has hosted a workshop with a University of Vermont professor/poet who lives in town. I joined the group this year. Carl, one of my writing buddies, also joined and shared this poem with the group. He has a very romantic sensibility. He was nice enough to let me post his poem here. I had been thinking about my experience with the sounds of silence and now I have the little push I needed to sit down and write about it. * **** Mike and I have had been fortunate in our opportunities to travel around various parts of the United States, and we have had some gre...