Meandering
Biting ludic winds,The Fall air redolent of
Weeping pumpkin flesh.
Cacophonous cries,
Winging the heady blue sky-
Twelve geese South-bound fly.
An upturned collar,
Meandering amongst the graves-
Squirrel gathers fast.
Night of lambent stars,
Pensive o'er a cup of tea-
Distant laughter chimes.
Poetry by Soup in the Sand
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Editors' choice
Written on 2011-10-19 at 02:42
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Blilith |
josephus |
Editorial Team |
Nils Teodor |
ken d williams |