the syntax of life
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
Forty-Seven Degrees
Birds are noisy. They wake up early-- before truck drivers and daughters. Chattering songs that don't speak rain or tiny mummy bags. Just chatter or trill or make echos of chimes. Early.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Newer Post
Older Post
Home
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment