Flightless mincemeat waiting for the ****
by farmers plow,
below the till,
a stir about,
an upward ******
up through the earth new life is pushed,
through valleys low and skies abound,
their colors shake the hardened ground,
a life among the stars aglow,
Their fate, it lies beneathe the snow.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 4:40 PM UTC
Flightless mincemeat waiting for the ****
by farmers plow,
below the till,
a stir about,
an upward ******
up through the earth new life is pushed,
through valleys low and skies abound,
their colors shake the hardened ground,
a life among the stars aglow,
Their fate, it lies beneathe the snow.
Written Feb 2013