Weather vane
It is the season when the electric sky is gathering
in the distance
A grey and yellow summerglade sleeps soundless
as it awaits the approaching storm
Earth let its lame swaying straws grow
over me as a quilt
Somewhere I have lost myself to the ground
Poetry by F. Soderberg
Read 976 times
Written on 2006-02-13 at 00:26




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