In the meanest time of summer
when the sun cracks the pavement
and swelter fills your lungs
a call to the dispossessed is in order.
Consider the river washers,
and the alley dwellers
who are simply thankful for today.
Chew on a bitter piece of perspective
and ask yourself;
if you had to carry a cross to your own death
would you complain about the heat?
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC
In the meanest time of summer
when the sun cracks the pavement
and swelter fills your lungs
a call to the dispossessed is in order.
Consider the river washers,
and the alley dwellers
who are simply thankful for today.
Chew on a bitter piece of perspective
and ask yourself;
if you had to carry a cross to your own death
would you complain about the heat?
