Caught In The Stream
not poetry. not fiction. a life, and something in between.
Tuesday, March 04, 2014
I smelled summer on an asphalt's winter
wet. The cardinal, hopping yet, knew it,
and lent me a tune made for faulty lyrics.
So I sang the earth, deep in its brown sleep,
a dream to green the glinting hints of her.
Share to Twitter
Share to Facebook
Share to Pinterest
Post a Comment
Post Comments (Atom)