“This morning, in a jelly glass on my table, a handful of the season's first violets— a gift from the garden of a dear friend. Old age, I'm told, has a discernible odor. Who would have thought mine would be… — Peter Everwine Copy Share Image
“Who am I? Flying, I live, and sometimes I make songs: flower songs, butterflies of songs— such as reveal my sentiments, such as express… — Peter Everwine Copy Share Image
“This morning, in a jelly glass on my table, a handful of the season's first violets— a gift from the garden of a dear… — Peter Everwine Copy Share Image
