James [Wright] and his wife Annie were like the two ponies in his poem, shy and awkward, preferring to roam the sun-filled fields in nearby Kennett Square, Pa., with me and my husband and two other friends.My son, then 7 years old, sat on a stump while James sang him the Swedish Chef's song from Sesame Street.
from Fleda Brown: Traverse City Record-Eagle: On Poetry: Immediacy of experience
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