Trip To Echo Spring Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

I have set my table next to the window where the grey sky is dim.
I see drops of sterilized grape, raisins, apples even dates of Shiraz
I know clouds have hands and mostly wave them, hard not to see
Pouring blood in the glass I raise it mimicking great writers; CBC
(I listen to the radio. Mom disliked it and said ‘The dogs talking’)
They have taken trip to echo spring led by Tennessee; a specialist.
Eye of my mind can see Agee, Hemingway to Tennessee Williams.