The stinging chills from the morning breezeSweeping through my clotheMy skin forms bumps…
And in the mindBranches swayWeaving patternsStirring memoryLittle birds dart and perch in them.
Poetry — friends of the sky and outdoor scents
We watch We learnIn our shimmering black coatsAll our eyes are oneAs we rise at dawnAnd feed at dusk…
Word on the street is thatThere’s a new word in town.Nobody’s heard the word, butEverybody’s heard about…
I’m at a lossBecause my flaws keep winning