<donnelly's "after a long time away"> 2003-11-30.10:16 p.m. After a Long Time Away Patrick Donnelly Everything is glad of me. The radio plays only flutes. My key fits locks all over town, turns them over and over, churches open their double doors, the library has stacked all the books in my favorite order. My throat starts singing up and up. Plants think up fresh leaves, even the dust on the shelves has got a new pair of shoes, and waxy yellow peppers jump in my pots, cook cheaply into a thick glee. Trucks kindly do not grind my house apart; the checks I write clear quietly and completely in and out of the twilight, water-cool vaults of my blue marble bank. And death is just a word, like doorjamb, magpie, that twirls and worries gently. back /& forth /& frosting names are often sad