Sep 2018
The trees littered leaves,
dead fronds lay about;
running goes the wind,
the sky fills like grout;
that whirl of the spin,
o'er mid orange eve;
will fall sometime soon--
...eventually.
dead fronds lay about;
running goes the wind,
the sky fills like grout;
that whirl of the spin,
o'er mid orange eve;
will fall sometime soon--
...eventually.
