poetry & things


Winds cannot whittle away this morning, blowing through my waking window

sweet, they only sing me from sleep and bring to me, birds I’ve heard in other dreamy dawns.

Joyful, thinking of friends to meet, along the streets or on soft summer lawns,

watching – like a magic trick, waiting for surprise,

now orange, pink, red upon my bed,

a world of dazzling skies!

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