it smells like rain.
the leaves
have cupped their
green hands
into the air, ready.
a wind
pushes back
the brows of trees,
the sky
darkens,
the clouds form
into fields of blue.
we sit on the porch,
hand in hand
and wait.
Tuesday, December 5, 2017
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment