the wind slips her under the awnings
and she yawns; shudder, and the doors shut.
she slept through the downy mornings of spring; her resting
in summer's thorny evenings
leaves her with a bed of brittle buddleias
and moonglades in the puddles.
Sep 17, 2012
Sep 17, 2012 at 9:22 AM UTC
the wind slips her under the awnings
and she yawns; shudder, and the doors shut.
she slept through the downy mornings of spring; her resting
in summer's thorny evenings
leaves her with a bed of brittle buddleias
and moonglades in the puddles.
