on the pasture of the yond

I saw the birth of the Swedish Savannah today.

I kid not.

My body in tune with the frolicking of the pasture,

Though frost bites its teeth lack strength.

Though only for an hour, a part of the day.

I know the morrow brings its bitter wintry surprise.

Inasmuch as the cloud that crosses the Astro Rey

to remind me:

Bitterly where I am-

Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.