hands in the garden

curtain ripples
from warm
breath

of dawn strange
to threat

may down ‘morrow’s
midday moon-

shall not fret, fire
will rise
soon.

Enter your comment here...

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

Email (required) (Address never made public)

Name (required)

Website

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s