the
air has enough sweat
to
form puddles before
it
hits the ground
on
the green side of the avenue
rubbish
has thrown itself
at
a catch-all against the hillside
from
the cardinal's perch
a
song is just a song
nothing
has changed since the big bang
when
the wind is just right
a
river can flow upstream
twist
in a whitecap
there
are clouds that promise rain
but
then there are those
who
think they know the future
---
e b bortz
No comments:
Post a Comment