Branches crisscross the wet
And catch their breath.
In their maze
No monster waits
In their gaze
No slur, no praise
Branches crisscross the air
I, too, watch them there.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
the hits keep coming
I worked in the garden for six hours straight, with Max and Huck for company now and again, because I could not bear to be around the radio ...
2 comments:
That was beautiful.
I loved it. I hope to see some more. :)
Thanks, Dr. Dolly :).
Post a Comment