From Reality to Poetry

Guess what? Son L found Fio's newspapers piled up in front of the gate to the area she lives in. Now, the gate opens a gate at six every day, so what time were they trying to deliver the papers? And why didn't anyone contact Fiorella to explain what was happening? 

Pray for your girl--she is running up and down the step ladder again, trying to put her half-finished novels in order so she can start finishing them off while she still can.

 AACK! just rechecked the newspapers and son grabbed for me and they are ALL for today's date--WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?

 

             How about one of Fiorella's old sonnets?

Quiet as the grave that holds me fast

When death has dumbed the drumbeat of my blood

Beneath the soundless soil, still at last

I'll sink in silence toward the muffling mud

But until then, I'll clatter trough your halls

And shout hello to friends and wail good-by

I'll laugh aloud within your stately walls

I'll shiek my anger  to the sombre sky.

The dead are not notorious for their noise

And I will lie a long time quietly

So up till then, I'll use my loudest voice

To make the whimpering world resound to me

   And when at last I'm mutes by the all-absorbing ground

   My unaccustomed silence then will deafen you with sound.