one of my charcoal drawings


winter night ruminates

winter night ruminates
polished and ready
over quick done in darkness

slow hands run
through gloomy sand's hair
with salty dog scent brew

it is a night of reckoning
wile wings of yesterday
beat against yesterday's brow

at one point there was a one
solidifying all hours
now all days are behind the trees



Poetry by Bob
Read 696 times
Written on 2016-02-09 at 09:08

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