The New Yorker @NewYorker
“I find them, as sundown walks to the edge of the story To wait for sunrise. I find them in a song about a woman Weeping with joy, about a man whose love for her Does not need words but contains every color That love has ever worn.” A poem by @JoyHarjo. https://t.co/mxJrBgrb2d — PolitiTweet.org