A poem by Thomas Thornburg from Munseetown
This winter sun again is centered
Above Gillespie Towers where
Each dawn discovers lights declaring
Early risers there.
Infirm and ill and some demented,
Why do they rise in winter, staring
When each in her cell might bask instead
In summer dreams beneath the snows
Of memory, secure and somnolent?
The weak light rallies, and I know:
A car [...]

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A comment from Stan
It’s just terrible of me, but I am enjoying this little to-do over pigs and lipstick. It’s time set aside, now, to visit with an old friend, a well-worn cliché, a metaphor that hung around a little long, became self-conscious and realized that there was a sexism at its own root. Of [...]

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