scorching heat
a breeze through the garden
teases the air
SxSE
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Tanka Prose
Nights in White Satin * It’s not just the music, the minor key plaintive sound or the voice, the anguished cry of loneliness and longing,...
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oh, this wind! it sweeps me past my gate then spins me home spring clean-up- in the sweat of hard work a settling peace solid gray sky- fors...
2 comments:
__ Hai-heet zummer; such hai July tenchepurs; cauwzd my bwain fweez.
__ I know I din't spill corekedly, just tryin to make some comic insight laughter... paralell to my errares. _m
Thanks. Doug. Scorching heat has fried my brains.
adelaide
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