3 Herons
In the morning hours of six and sevenI stood outside, laid eyes on heaven
Blue skies, the sun withing my sight
Azure, enchanting, beams of light
And to my ears did reach the cries
of times long gone and distant past
now at this hour they played reprise
those ancient echoes of creatures vast
Poetry by ttius
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Written on 2014-06-13 at 21:35
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