cry fowl
yard fowl flee the sight
to cower
lest they perish
from the
hawks in
flight
tumbling
down
as they
cherish
prodigal ghosts
it was in those first warm days and
you never would have known
from this old picture just
how windblown
yet soundlessly the silhouettes
of clouds swiftly passed their
shadows racing over
the short grass
as sunbeams cast and filtered past
barren branch and woodbine
to dance amongst the pale
prodigal ghosts upon
the clothesline
コメント