I'll be blogging about my marathon interview session later. In the interim, I'll leave you with a simple stanza poem I came across during my 5:00am reading this morning.

From the Telephone

Out of the dark cup
Your voice broke like a flower
It trembled, swaying on its taut stem.
The caress in its touch
Made my eyes close farther.

- Florence Martin - late 19th century

Posted by: Michele at 08:16 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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