RoadWriter

Heart, Soul, and Rough Edges — A Gypsy Journey of Words and Wonder

Introducing Margaret

Margaret Fieland

Green on Thursdays

Where I was born, the world ended
at the Hudson River
and Sixth Avenue
was still one block west of Fifth.

In my neighborhood
you never wore orange on Saint Patrick’s day,
never mind if you weren’t Irish.

Better to wear green,
unless it fell on a Thursday,
because then they might think you were,
you know,
one of Them.

Maybe I’ll just wear blue.

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