dom gabrielli
pour sand
from the mug of greed
freely
from empty fingers
into morning
there is no more succulent promise
than waiting for the wind
to blow the autumn rains
onto the parched earth
to watch the skies as they hurry
the mirrors in the olive tops
speak directly to your eye
blue the rains come
Write a comment
Natasha Georgievska (Friday, 24 January 2014 02:40)
Exquisite! My compliments.