Between the Storms
A burst of birds and Frantic wings! Then juxtaposed against that noise– a shush, a hush . And in the disquieted quiet, Oak groves Plead their branches to the sun. Yet, still, The storm Comes.
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A burst of birds and Frantic wings! Then juxtaposed against that noise– a shush, a hush . And in the disquieted quiet, Oak groves Plead their branches to the sun. Yet, still, The storm Comes.
Read moreThe Road Uncurling– still wet from a morning shower– Droplets trickling, slowly, wetly down arching spine, Stretching sumptuously, Flirtatiously, Enticing me from self-important virtue To bliss.
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