Friday, March 28, 2014

MARCH DAWN

After the last rains
scattered the birds
nestled in trees
under cirrus skies
writing with my arm
between mirrors
of two barefoot seasons
childhood returned
in one of those moments
and a mood of elegy
opens a nameless day
as if these floating winds
and a downpour of cloud
swirls over my bicycle
and not a sardonic care
when time slips by.






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